


Family is a Funny Thing

by SkylaDoragono



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Clothed Sex, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Din Djarin has PTSD, Din Djarin the Accidental Mand'alor, Domestic Fluff, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Grogu Steals All the Hugs, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Jedi Culture & Tradition (Star Wars), Luke Skywalker Needs A Hug, M/M, Mandalorian Culture (Star Wars), Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Pining, Post-Season/Series 02, Rough Sex, Scars, Semi-Sequel Trilogy Compliant, Sexual Tension, Space Politics, The Force is Eldritch, everyone gets a happy ending, slowest of slow burns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:35:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 67,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28413243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkylaDoragono/pseuds/SkylaDoragono
Summary: He promised the child he would see him again; he just didn't realize how hard it would be for him to stay away, even with the responsibility that came with the Darksaber breathing down his neck.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda, Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu | Baby Yoda & Luke Skywalker
Comments: 255
Kudos: 1084
Collections: Movies





	1. Chapter 1

The first time it happened was on Tatooine, while he was in the middle of negotiating for a new ship.

Bo-Katan had insisted that he take a Mandalorian ship, as was “fitting” for him, her reluctance over the fact that he had accidentally earned the right to the throne pouring out of every word. He told her he would if she just took the damn Darksaber already, only to be met with staunch silence. It was what led him to leaving the (former) Imperial Cruiser with Fett and Shand, going back to the hated dust pile and Peli Motto, the mechanic that had helped him with the  _ Razor Crest  _ twice now. He took his well deserved tongue lashing over the fate of his ship, though it quickly dissolved into a mournful silence when she asked where the little womp rat was.

Though he questioned if he still had any right to his armor, now that he broke the creed twice now, Din Djarin was grateful for his helmet. He did not need others seeing him still coming to near tears over a loss that felt the same as death.

She put him in touch with a few ship sellers, people that dealt with Pre- and Early Empire craft. He was not confident he would find another gunship like the  _ Razor Crest,  _ seeing as most ships from the Clone Wars era and earlier were few and far between these days, but he wanted to hope.

The message that unexpectedly came in over his wrist com while the current seller was trying to hype up one of the pieces of junk he had for sale was in text, from a code he did not recognize.

he funny

Din frowned at the message, confused. It did not make sense, and the shady salesman was trying to get his attention, so he quickly dismissed it.

The second time was in the middle of nowhere, when the piece of junk Corellian hauler he had settled on unexpectedly dropped out of hyperspace. He was busily grumbling under his breath, trying to figure out what the  _ hell  _ was wrong with the hyperdrive and hoping he could get it functioning, to the point he almost missed the chime from his com. It was text again, from the same number, and the message on it was just as strange as the last.

makes crunchy tea good

Din let out a sight, detaching his com and setting it aside, not wanting to deal with a wrong number at the moment.

The third time was when he finally got the clunker to Nevarro, and Greef Karga was mourning the loss of the  _ Razor Crest  _ and the kid he spoiled like a grandson when the com went off. Din let out a tired sigh, waving it off when his old boss asked if he would take it. He waited until he finished negotiating repairs, before reading the strange text message.

he nice you like

Din rolled his eyes skyward under his helmet, finally sending a message back.

Think you have the wrong number, pal.

He was about to head to the local cantina, hoping to pick up something to eat in peace, and not expecting another message. The com went off just as he was about to enter, and Din cursed loudly, snapping his wrist com up, only to freeze solid. The message this time was much more coherent, and…

I’m sorry. Grogu must have gotten a hold of my com.

Din stared at the message, not sure what to say or even do. He probably should have just left it at that, right? The little guy was with his kind, and as much as he wanted to see him again already, it was… probably too soon. He probably should… leave them alone.

Is this the Jedi?

He had the message typed out and sent before he could second guess himself for the umpteenth time, knowing that he was just fooling himself if he seriously thought he was just going to leave things be now that he had a link back to the kid. The reply was not immediate, giving him time to sit down and order food in the space it took for the response to come.

Yes.  
I’m sorry I was short with you before.  
You can call me Luke.

Just Luke, hunh? Mr. Jedi-no-last-name? Din was not sure if the guy was being deliberately vague and mysterious, or if he just did not realize he was doing it. Maybe with the Jedi stuff he just did not trust him enough to be more elaborate. Even Ahsoka’s response to him had been to attack first and ask questions never, and he had not seen her take out an entire platoon of murder droids single handedly.

If he’s stealing your com, he must be doing okay.

Part of him kind of  _ hoped  _ the kid was giving the Jedi a hard time, if only because it was fair he drove his new caretaker crazy too. His food arrived by the time the answer came in, and he could not help but beam under his helmet.

He’s a handful. My droid has had to go chasing after him more than once.

“That’s my little womp rat,” he murmured to himself, about to tip his helmet up enough to sip at the broth he ordered, when another message came in.

He misses you, Din.

Oh that just was not fair. He fought with himself for the better part of a minute, wanting to say so many things, but hesitating, fearful of sounding desperate and clingy. He had been tasked with ensuring the child was safe with his kind, and he did that; so why did it feel like he still failed?

When can I see him again?

He regretted sending that as soon as he pushed the button, knowing that the response was going to be “never”. A huff escaped from his mouth, turning his focus back on his food, when the expected denial came in.

Well, not  _ quite  _ a denial.

We are on Lothal at the moment investigating the ruins. You are welcome to stop in if you’re in the area.

Lothal… that was not  _ anywhere  _ close to Nevarro. He realized he would  _ make  _ it closer the moment he started guzzling down his broth, barely remembering to shove his helmet all the way down when he stood.

I’ll be there.

~.oOOo.~

A loud  _ bang  _ came from somewhere behind him, but Din ignored it. He could get someone on planet to deal with whatever that was; right now, he had coordinates to find, and he angled the ship toward the planet, trying not to be worried by the noticeable temperature increase as he breached the atmosphere. He was flying over rolling grassy hills in the next moment, realizing he was out in the middle of nowhere, on a planet that was basically nowhere. He half expected to nearly miss a little cottage or something of the kind in the middle of the grassy sprawl, so when he ended up rolling up on an X-wing parked next to a massive pile of rubble, it was a bit of a  _ shock. _

Carefully, he set his clunker down on the ground next to the starfighter, a faint hissing noise coming from somewhere that he resolutely ignored, powering down the ship before heading out. It was cooler outside than he would have thought, and he found himself pausing, allowing his gaze to drift over the X-wing. It was not as nice as the newer ships, even the ones that patrolled the Outer Rim; it looked old as hell, and had clearly seen military use, as he could see a kill counter next to a giant circle. His eyes drifted over to the rubble next, noting the clear signs of excavation, with wooden supports holding up a tunnel to the inside. It looked like the kind of work that a team would take  _ weeks  _ to accomplish, but…

Well, if Grogu could call a ball to his hand with what training he had, what would a fully trained Jedi be able to do?

He let out a breath, bracing himself, before heading into the temple ruins. The air was a bit stale, like the place had only just recently been opened up to the outside. It was even cooler inside, and he swore he felt… something. Not foreboding or anything  _ bad,  _ just that he was setting foot on something sacred that he had no business intruding on. He almost turned around and went back, part of him thinking it would be better to wait up top than disturb the sanctity of this place…

But he  _ really  _ wanted to see Grogu again.

Din finally made it to the bottom, scanning the dimly lit ruins. The first thing he noticed were blinking lights, and it took him a moment to recognize the blue and white barrel body of the astromech that had been with the Jedi. The head of the droid swiveled toward him, and Din felt the familiar churn of fear in his gut. It was still there, as he imagined it always would be, though IG-11’s aid and later sacrifice made it easier to deal with. He squashed the feeling down, approaching the droid, though he stopped short when he let out a faint boop, his head swiveling back around.

Din followed the droid’s gaze, spotting the Jedi and Grogu sitting some distance away, eyes closed and sitting so very still, almost like they were sleeping. After seeing what the kid had done on Tython, he did not think they were actually sleeping, but… these Jedi things were weird, and he was pretty sure he was never going to understand it outside of sometimes they could make things float and could create barriers and could mow down third generation Dark Troopers without breaking a sweat.

“Jedi thing, got it,” he murmured, settling himself on the ground as quietly as his armor would allow, and waited.

He was not sure how much time had passed before Grogu finally moved, letting out a sad noise as he reached up with tiny hands to rub at his face. Instinct kicked in almost immediately, and Din very nearly leapt to his feet, ready to scoop the kid up and rock him until the tears stopped. The Jedi was moving before he could, however, reaching his arms out for the kid. Din watched as Grogu tottered over to him, allowing himself to be picked up and hugged tight, his big ears sticking up around the Jedi’s shoulder as a tiny hand clung to his arm.

“I’m sorry, Grogu,” the Jedi murmured softly, rocking him back and forth gently. “I know it hurts.”

A sad noise escaped from the kid that made Din’s heart ache. In the next moment, he saw the kid’s ears suddenly perk up, his tiny head peering over the Jedi’s shoulder and staring right at him. He was scrambling up the Jedi in the next moment, leading to him letting out a completely undignified squeak as Grogu launched himself off his shoulder. Din might have raised an eyebrow at that, maybe even comment on the noise, but the kid was literally  _ flying  _ toward him, and he had to get his hands up to catch him before he splattered against his armor.

“O-okay, that’s new,” he managed to get out as Grogu let out a happy coo, his hand reaching for his helmet. Din found himself hesitating, before a hand reached up to remove it, earning himself another happy noise as his bare face was revealed. Grogu flailed for him, nuzzling up against his scruff once Din cuddled him close enough, a tiny hand holding onto his chin.

A shadow fell over him, and Din glanced up to see the Jedi had come over, a serene smile on his face as he watched the two of them. The smile did not seem to reach his eyes though, a sadness there that he could not quite put his finger on.

“It’s just about time for dinner,” he began. “Are you hungry, Din?”

Grogu pulled away at the mention of dinner, letting out a happy noise as he tugged at Din’s face, like he was insisting he had to eat. Din flinched, figuring he did not have much of a choice, and he nodded as he carefully got to his feet, the kid clinging the entire way back up to the open air.

It was not long before Din found himself seated under a sturdy overhang of the ruin, concealing a cozy shelter the Jedi had set up that he entirely missed when he first arrived. Grogu was settled on his lap, slurping away at some homemade broth as the Jedi offered Din something more substantial: meat that was probably local game and some kind of vegetable. He ate in awkward silence, part of him itching to put his helmet back on, but he did not want to disappoint the kid. The Jedi, at least, seemed to respect his awkwardness, blissfully declining to engage him in conversation, at least until they were finished eating.

“Your ship…” he began, offering Grogu a small cup of tea once the bowls and plates had been gathered. He drank it down, his ears wiggling happily, and Din raised an eyebrow, remembering the “tea good” message, before turning his attention to the Jedi. A strange look was on his face now, a mix of amusement and nostalgia that made him lean back slightly.

“...it’s a piece of junk.”

Din stared at the blunt observation, his mouth working, trying to get a response out.

“It… gets me where I need to go,” he finally answered. As if to spite him, a loud  _ clang  _ came from where he parked the ship, and they all turned in time to see the ship lean precariously to the side as one of the landing struts gave out.

“Sometimes?” the Jedi asked, his blue eyes practically sparkling in his amusement. Din just wanted to find a hole and crawl into, the laugh the Jedi let out a moment later not helping matters. “Don’t worry, I can call someone in from town. They can have it at least back into a functioning state overnight.”

Din opened his mouth to protest, when he caught a cooing noise coming from Grogu. He looked down to see the little guy curled up on his lap, clutching at his empty cup like it was a pillow. He let out a sigh, carefully removing the cup and handing it off, before bringing his cloak around and gently wrapping Grogu up in it so he would not be sleeping directly on his hard armor. The kid let out another happy noise, already out like a light, and Din could not help but let out a sigh.

“Guess I don’t have a choice,” he replied, trying not to read too much into the Jedi’s smile.

~.oOOo.~

Din got the sense that it was not long after he had settled in and fallen asleep with the kid on his chest, that a loud  _ clang  _ had them both waking up. Grogu fussed against him, pulling his cloak tighter around himself as Din glanced around, noting the Jedi was not in the shelter. He shifted as he heard the other man’s voice from outside, tucking the kid securely against his shoulder before shuffling over to peer outside.

The first thing he spotted was the Jedi, mostly because at the moment he  _ hardly  _ looked like the regal, mysterious wizard he had interacted with so far. He had shed his cloak and vest, and the upper half of the jumpsuit he wore underneath had been undone, the arms of it tied around his waist. His bare chest was covered in a sheen of sweat, glistening slightly in the low moonlight as he bent over a different landing strut from the one that had broken earlier.

“—no idea how he even made it here, Artoo,” the Jedi was saying, and he caught a rude sounding blat coming from the droid in response, getting a chuckle out of the young man. “No, the  _ Falcon  _ is still worse. At least we don’t have to guess around weird modifications.”

Din frowned to himself, sleep fogged brain trying to recall if he had ever heard of a ship named  _ Falcon  _ before. He shrugged it off, instead watching as the Jedi hovered the landing strut back into place, before climbing up the ship, working on securing it into place. It was a moment before he popped back up, looking satisfied with his work as he started walking along the top of the ship.

“I’m going to check the other two, make sure they—”

The Jedi’s words disappeared into a squeak as he suddenly fell through the top of the ship, tumbling down the loading ramp a moment later. His droid let out a panicked trill, rocking back and forth on his legs as the Jedi laid where he finally stopped, spread eagled on the ground and staring up at the sky.

“Okay,” he began, sounding breathless, “I know we promised to have it functional by tomorrow, but… think we can convince him to stay another night?”

The droid let out a rude noise as Din just frowned at the exchange, not sure what to make of any of it. He finally glanced down at Grogu, who was staring up at him, sleepy eyed.

“Are all Jedi this weird?” he asked, but the kid just yawned, snuggling closer to his shoulder.

~.oOOo.~

“There were some complications last night.”

Din gave the Jedi a deadpan look, part of him tempted to call him out on what he witnessed the night before. The other man was back to the aloof and mysterious act, all traces of the wanna-be mechanic gone. Even his clothes looked perfect, when the jumpsuit should have at least been a little rumpled or have some kind of grease stain on it. Hell, the only sign that anything had happened at all was he would spot the Jedi letting out a yawn when he thought he was not looking.

“I guess I can stay a little longer,” he said instead, his attention drawn down as Grogu let out a happy noise, climbing onto his lap. A smile twitched onto his face before he could stop himself, reaching down to pat the kid on the head. A quick glance up showed the Jedi had a gentle smile on his face as he watched the two of them, before he reached into his vest, pulling out a datapad.

“If you don’t mind, could you make a stop into town while we’re training?” he asked, offering the pad to him. “I’ve been meaning to for awhile, but I haven’t had the chance.”

Din paused, looking down the list on the pad, noting that there was a credit line attached, along with an extensive list of parts for his ship.

This guy was such a bad liar it was almost painful.

“Can I ask you something personal?” he began as the Jedi started cleaning up from breakfast, pausing to silently encourage him to continue. “How old are you?”

He looked mildly surprised by the question, and for a moment, Din did not think he was going to answer him. The Jedi finally smiled, chuckling softly.

“Twenty-eight.”

Din sat there in numb shock for a long moment after the Jedi had called Grogu to his side, the kid giving his hand a tiny squeeze, before tottering his way out of the shelter. He finally ran a hand over his face to shake himself out of it, ending with thumping a fist to his forehead.

“He’s a damn baby,” he muttered to himself. Maybe that was a little unfair; Din himself was roughly five years older — the chaos of the Clone Wars and his founding making it hard for him to remember exactly how old he was — but still, the Jedi was not even  _ thirty. _

He finally let out a frustrated breath, grabbing his helmet and jamming it back on before heading out, wondering if it was too late to try and convince Ahsoka to change her mind.

~.oOOo.~

The nearby town was a fairly large, walled off place, the tell tale remnants of dismantled Imperial machinery lingering near the entrance. Two guards stood in place of the heavy equipment, and one raised his hand to stop him as he approached.

“Mando,” he greeted him gruffly, looking like he had seen way too much in the last decade or so. His partner was younger and more fresh faced by comparison, but seemed to be just as alert for trouble. “What brings you out here?”

“My ship’s busted,” Din replied easily, already feeling more comfortable with himself now that his helmet was back on. “I’ve got a friend out by the temple ruins helping me fix it.”

The man let out a snort at that, and a quick glance over his shoulder revealed his partner giving him a disbelieving look.

“You don’t mean that crazy wizard kid that showed up a couple weeks ago, do you?”

Oh good; Din was not the only one that thought of him like a kid.

“That’s the one,” he confirmed. The man stared at him for a long moment, like he was trying to determine if he was pulling his leg or not. He leaned back finally, letting out a good natured laugh.

“Well, mind yourself here, Mando,” he finally said. “Lothal’s been through enough. We don’t need no more fighting, especially in our towns.”

“I’ll be careful,” he assured the guard, starting forward into town once he stepped out of the way.

Hunting for the parts he needed was not as hard as he thought it was going to be. It had not taken much effort to find the junk traders that had the aftermarket parts he had on his list, some of them of questionable origin, but he certainly was not going to ask the questions. The most difficulty he had was in renting a skiff to help transport the parts once he realized just how many — and how  _ large —  _ some of them were. At this rate, Din was legitimately worried that the Jedi was rebuilding his ship from scratch, and he tried not to pay attention to the mounting price tag, so as he would not have to think about how much he was going to owe the kid.

He made one additional stop, spying a vendor that was selling the cookies Grogu seemed to like and buying them (with his own money!), before heading out. Both gate guards from before were still on duty as he left the city, the younger of the two staring with wide eyes at the skiff and the sheer amount of parts on it.

“Looks like all you’re missing is the hyperdrive,” the elder commented, a knowing look in his eyes that spoke of many nights hacking together his own vehicles in a desperate effort to make them work.

“I’ve flown in worse, but… it needs a lot of work,” Din admitted, earning himself a chuckle in return.

“Well, best of luck to you,” the man said, before glancing around him, frowning slightly. “Maybe you’ve got another friend there to help you out…?”

Oh… Din suddenly had a bad feeling about this. He turned around slowly, part of him hoping to see green and red Mandalorian armor set over black robes, or maybe even dark blue with a painted owl around the helmet visor. Of course he was not so lucky; the Mandalorian that stalked toward him was unfairly huge, his armor a deep purple accented with lines of yellow and silver. He had what looked like a  _ gatling cannon  _ strapped to his back like it did not weigh anything at all, and he felt more than saw the two gate guards back away as the man slung the weapon off his shoulder.

“Mand’alor!” the man bellowed, and Din was grateful for the helmet hiding the flinch at the unwanted title. “I am Njok of clan Rook! I challenge you for the right to wield the Darksaber!”

Din let out a long, suffering sigh, using the controls on his gauntlet to send the skiff a fair distance away. He had already spent way more of the Jedi’s money than he would have ever wanted to spend; he was not about to make it double because it got in the way of a needless fight.

“I don’t suppose you’ll accept me denying your challenge?” he asked, only to be met with staunch silence. Another sigh escaped from him as he primed his Whistling Birds with a flick of his wrist. “Well, it was worth a shot…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, I have officially fallen into Din/Luke hell, and I'm not sorry for it at all.
> 
> For the record, there still isn't a canon location for Nevarro yet, other than "somewhere in the Outer Rim". So if it turns out it actually is near Lothal, I'm going to say Din willed it to be that way and no one can stop me.


	2. Chapter 2

“You were in a fight.”

Din stopped dead as he came around his clunker of a ship, the rented skiff stopping right next to him. The Jedi was standing just by the boarding ramp, Grogu in his arms. The kid had his face buried in his shoulder, and did not even perk up when he spoke.

“How can you tell?”

“You’re favoring your leg.”

He fought against a sigh, trying not to think about the gatling cannon and how the other Mandalorian had used it as a bludgeon when the power pack ran out. That had hurt, to put it mildly, but he thought he had been concealing his injuries well enough. There probably was not much he could get past this Jedi kid.

“You should see the other guy,” he replied mildly, directing the skiff over to the side, before nodding to Grogu, probably also failing to hide his mounting anxiety over the fact he had yet to move away from the Jedi’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

The Jedi approached him then, coming almost uncomfortably close, before gently pulling the kid away from his shoulder. He let out a heartbreaking whine, but quickly quieted as he was transferred over to Din’s shoulder instead, though he still clung to the Jedi’s finger. He smiled softly, a thumb rubbing his tiny fingers comfortingly.

“We had a difficult session today,” he explained softly, his gaze turning up to Din. He found himself staring back, feeling like the Jedi’s gaze met his, even though he could not see his eyes past the visor of his helmet. A weird feeling settled in his chest, but he shook it off; it was probably the pain from his injuries starting to get to him. “He could use his father for the rest of the day, I think,” the Jedi continued, giving the tiny hand a squeeze, before slipping his finger out of his grasp.

Din gave him an unseen hard look, trying to ignore the pleased little flutter at being referred to as the kid’s father.

“What are you two doing that he keeps getting upset like this?” he asked, trying very hard to make it sound like a question and not a demand. The Jedi smiled sadly, reaching up to gently soothe the back of Grogu’s head.

“He holds a lot of fear in his heart,” he explained. “Much of it is shrouded in a nameless darkness. I need to help him through his fear, to help him learn to let it go, before I can even attempt to train him properly.”

The Jedi’s expression dimmed slightly, like he was reliving some deeply personal pain as he was helping Grogu through his.

“I know the results of overwhelming fear, and how it can affect even a fully trained Jedi,” he explained softly. “I don’t want that for him.”

Din found himself very still, staring down at the Jedi. He did not understand what that was supposed to mean, and he suspected he probably never would. Despite that, he could almost feel the care the Jedi was giving Grogu. It… oddly made him feel better about having to leave him in his care. He reached up, gently stroking one of the kid’s ears in an effort to comfort him.

“It’s… probably a bad idea if I stay longer than another night,” he said softly, tightening his grip on Grogu when he felt him fuss, “but I’ll hold onto him for the rest of the day.”

The gentle smile the Jedi gave him just happened to coincide with the funny feeling rising in his chest again.

~.oOOo.~

When he woke up the next morning, the Jedi was still curled up on his sleeping bag — on  _ top  _ of the sleeping bag — wrapped up in his cloak and utterly dead to the world. Din hovered over him for a solid minute, with Grogu making gurgling noises, and the Jedi did not even twitch. The faintest buzz of a snore escaped from him instead, and Din glanced down at his kid, raising an eyebrow.

“Well. Let’s see what he did last night,” he said, scooping Grogu up in his arms, before heading out of the shelter.

He almost did not recognize the ship. It was not quite polished, to the point where it was easy to spot the panels that had been replaced — along with one entirely new landing strut — all of which shone brilliantly in the rising sunlight. A faint hum of appreciation escaped from Din as he ran a hand along the side of the ship, popping open the exterior access hatch to the drive engine once he reached it. It looked like the entire system had been rebuilt, and he peered inside for good measure, eyes trailing along the fresh and neatly bundled wires leading to the engines. He pulled himself out, staring at it for a long moment, before closing the hatch and heading up the boarding ramp.

If he had not seen the Jedi fall through the roof the night before, he would not have been able to tell it even happened. It almost looked like everything had been scrubbed clean, to the point where even the old panels seemed like they gleamed. He peered into the cockpit, noticing the drive shaft and the majority of the instrument panel had been replaced. Curiously, he reached over to start up the engines, very nearly floored to hear a faint purr rumble through the ship instead of the shuddering choke from before. Din let out a sigh as he turned it off, his eyes drifting toward the hidden shelter.

“...I owe him,” he grumbled, trying not to read too much into the happy coo that Grogu let out.

He sighed again as he headed out of the ship and back to the shelter, not surprised to see the Jedi was still dead asleep. It was not hard to see why now, after witnessing all the work that had been done to his ship, and that was only the work he could  _ see _ . He probably  _ just  _ crawled to bed before he woke up, and considering he had been up late the night before, he was not surprised nothing was waking him up.

He stood up a bit straighter after looking over the Jedi to make sure he was all right, holding up Grogu so they were face to face.

“Hey, bright eyes, you make sure to take care of him, okay?” he asked. “I owe him for the ship and treating you so well.”

Grogu let out a sad noise, knowing very well that he was going to leave again. A faint noise escaped from him, and he pressed the bow of his helmet to his kid’s forehead. He let out a coo, his tiny claws clacking against the metal.

“Don’t worry, and don’t be afraid, okay?” he asked softly. “I’ll come back. I promise.”

Grogu let out a happy noise, before Din set him down. He immediately went over to the Jedi, crawling under his arm and cuddling up against his chest. He let out a faint sound of amusement, tapping in a quick message for the Jedi when he woke up, before heading out.

~.oOOo.~

“Well, you’re in a better mood.”

Din raised an unseen eyebrow as he walked into Nevarro’s ranger station. Cara Dune was lounging back in her chair, her feet propped up on the desk and a half smirk on her face, almost like she knew what he had been up to. She very well might have, considering he left almost as soon as he arrived, barely giving the port mechanics the time to fix the hyperdrive.

“I was starting to think I was going to have to peel you off a spotchka bottle, with how you were on that cruiser,” she continued, dropping her legs to the floor, her smirk turning a little sly. “What, did you make a stop at the Twi’lek Healing Baths?”

He gave her a bland look, his helmet tilting to convey it and his stance shifting to show how much the accusation annoyed him. She let out a laugh, leaning back in her chair again, though she left her feet on the ground.

“So what  _ have  _ you been up to?” she asked.

“I was visiting the kid.”

Cara paused at that, her eyebrows shooting toward her hairline. “Really? The Jedi let you?”

“He seemed fine with it,” Din replied. “He’s more focused on helping the kid through his fears than keeping him isolated.”

Cara did not look like she understood, and he could not really blame her. He knew he was never going to understand the Jedi stuff, though helping someone let go of their fear had to be a good thing, right?

“I swear I’ve seen that guy before,” she murmured after a moment, looking lost in her own thoughts. “I know there was a Jedi at Endor, but… it can’t be that guy. He looked so young.”

“He’s twenty-eight,” he provided, getting Cara to scrunch her face up, probably having the same thought he did. “But it’s fine,” Din continued, sounding more confident about it than before. “The kid is safe, and the Jedi’s taking good care of him. I owe him for everything he’s doing.”

And had already done, he added mentally. Cara held his gaze for a long moment, like she was trying to judge if it was  _ really  _ fine, before she nodded to herself.

“So I take it that means you’re looking for work?” she asked.

“Anything that’s going to keep me moving,” he replied, nodding. “I think I’m going to have other Mandalorians after me from now on.”

An alarmed look came to Cara’s face, before her eyes shot down to the hilt at his hip.

“Because of that?”

“Because of that.”

She shook her head, sharing in his annoyance over the fact that Bo-Katan did not just take the damn saber. 

“I don’t blame you for ditching on that mess after all that,” she said, before swiveling herself over to her computer. “Anyway, you know all I can offer you is the New Republic’s most wanted, right?”

“That’s fine,” Din replied, absently leaning over her desk to get a look at the screen himself. “Besides, it’s better if I stay in the Republic’s good graces at the moment.”

Cara shot him an amused look, and he could not quite place why she would. He dismissed it as nothing, instead watching as she typed away at the computer, several images flying by. Most of them were of stone faced men, clearly former Imps, with the occasional grizzled mug in between.

“Well… I can send you after the small fry, and have you bouncing back and forth, or I can send you after something a little  _ bigger.” _

She glanced up at him, as if trying to gauge his reaction. He leaned a little closer, getting a better look at the slightly pudgy face on the screen.

“Former Commandant Brendol Hux,” she explained. “Real piece of work. In the glory days of the Empire, he was responsible for troop recruitment, dealing mostly with kids. His methods are essentially the younger they are, the easier it is to make a loyal, ‘worthy’ stormtrooper.”

Cara’s face crinkled in disgust, and an unsettled feeling churned in Din’s gut. Mandalorian children started their training at a young age as well, beginning with simple weapons and firearms and gradually building up from there. The important difference was there was _consent_ involved; he may have been taken in as a foundling, but he could have just as easily said he did not want to train, and he would have been given to a family that would have taken care of him. He had seen it plenty of times with other foundlings that did not want to — or _could not_ — go through the rigorous training involved.

Plus, with everything that Gideon’s forces had put Grogu through? His heart ached for the kids this sick bastard got his hands on.

“The raid on Arkanis four years ago was meant to capture him, but he escaped, and has been on the run ever since,” she continued. “We’ve lost track of him, but getting our hands on him means we can cut down Imperial recruitment and force their numbers to die out.”

She turned her gaze up to him again, and Din stayed still for a long moment, thoughts churning in his head. A target like this would definitely keep him on the move, but also kill his chances of being able to stop and check in on the kid. At the same time, if this guy targeted kids for recruitment, and if he caught wind of Grogu…

“Got a fob?”

Cara flashed him a grim smile, inserting a blank fob and puck into the computer to have them imprinted. She pulled them out once it was done, holding them out for him to take, though she held it away once he reached for them.

“This is going to be like Gideon all over again,” she warned. “This isn’t going to be easy. Are you sure you’re up for this?”

Din found himself hesitating, thinking about the kid and all he had been through, and thinking about all the kids snatched up by the Empire that had not had a choice.

His hand closed around the puck and tracking fob, taking them from her hand.

~.oOOo.~

Months passed by: months of scouring the galaxy, drifting in and out of areas where the Imps were rumored to be holing up. His ship held up amazingly well through it all, responding much better than the  _ Razor Crest  _ ever had, and getting him out of more than a few close calls. This Hux guy was almost like a ghost, though; no matter where he went, he barely got a peep out of the fob. Part of him was starting to think this guy was already dead, but something told him that was not the case.

Another dead end had him beating his covered head against the console, exasperated beyond words. He turned his head after one last good thump, noting his com was blinking with a new message, and he forced himself up, accepting the incoming text.

Are you okay?

Din frowned, glancing down at the com code and recognizing it as belonging to the Jedi. He let out a breath, pulling himself up to answer, part of him wondering how he knew he was having a hard day.

Fine. Rough job.

Once his reply was sent, he pulled himself together, starting up the preflight sequence. He kept an eye on the com the whole time, though it was not until he was lifting off that it chimed again.

Why don’t you take a break? It could give you a new perspective.

Din raised an eyebrow at that, not believing a  _ break  _ would help him much. He would have been better off baiting him by saying— 

Besides, Grogu misses you.

Ah, there it was. He let out a sigh, tempted to insist he had to at least get something on this Hux guy, but… well, he missed Grogu too. He missed him  _ a lot,  _ to the point his chest ached at the thought of going to see him again.

Where are you?

The answer came faster that time:

Chandrila. I’m babysitting, so we’ll be here for awhile.

Din’s face scrunched up; he had never ventured into the heart of the New Republic, especially to the  _ capital,  _ and he was not exactly keen on doing it now. But for Grogu…

Don’t wait up. It’ll take me awhile to get there.

~.oOOo.~

Landing on Chandrila was a  _ lot  _ easier than Din imagined it being. The two day journey had been rough on his nerves, to the point that he spent most of the night before cleaning his weapons (with the exception of the Darksaber, which he refused to touch). The easy entry into the space port did nothing to ease his nerves, though the fact he did not have to pay the docking fee was nice, mostly because he did not want to know how expensive it would have been.

He felt extremely out of place walking through the city, knowing that more than a few eyes were on him as he traveled, a few of them owned by people wearing Republic guard uniforms. He resolutely ignored them, following the directions the Jedi had given him, leading him to buildings with apartments that might have cost as much as his armor. It was hard to think a Jedi could live in a place like this, considering how simply the Jedi in question seemed to dress.

...unless maybe that outfit of his was nicer than it looked? Those boots  _ had  _ been exceptionally shiny…

Din grumbled to himself, shaking his head.  _ Why  _ was he even thinking this?

He finally reached the apartment the Jedi said he would be in, but when he raised his hand to knock, the door slid open on its own. Din stood there awkwardly for a moment, slowly lowering his hand as he cautiously stepped inside. The door closed on its own behind him, nearly making him jump, though the sound of a child giggling drew him away from the haunted door.

He followed the noise to a finely decorated living room, where some of the furniture had been pushed aside to accommodate the two kids in the room. One of them was his Grogu, of course, and the other was a young human boy with hair so jet black it almost appeared unnatural. They were floating toy ships in the air, making them fly around above their heads as the Jedi watched from a nearby couch, trying and failing to hide the happy smile on his face.

The human boy noticed him first, and he reached up to take the toys, before his gaze turned down to Grogu. Some silent words were shared between them, and his kid jerked around toward him immediately after. He was climbing up to his feet in the next moment, tottering over to him, and Din was more than happy to scoop him up, just how  _ much  _ he missed him over the last few months hitting him as he held him close. The other boy stood up, going over to the Jedi, who scooped him up easily, settling him on his lap but otherwise remaining silent, letting Din have his moment and waiting to be acknowledged.

“Thank you, for continuing to look after him,” Din finally got out after a moment, still hugging Grogu close, little “boo boo” noises escaping from his mouth.

“Of course,” the Jedi replied, that serene smile on his face — the “Jedi smile”, not the smile he had previously that looked more like a proud parent. “He’s been making amazing progress. And he’s been a good influence on Ben here.”

His hands came up, tickling at the little boy’s sides. He started giggling, squirming in the Jedi’s lap, and a…  _ strange  _ feeling Din could not describe churned in his gut. It was like he swallowed a Manaanian sea pepper without removing the spicy seeds inside first, making his stomach tie itself into knots.

“Yours?” he asked, surprised he managed to keep his voice steady, considering what his stomach was doing to him.

“My sister’s,” he replied, his voice soothing, driving the churning feeling away. “He’s as talented as Grogu, but he suffers from night terrors and emotional fits. Having Grogu around the last week has helped him learn what a calm mind feels like.”

He paused a moment, nuzzling the top of the boy’s head with his chin.

“But we’re still going to wait until you’re older before training,” he said, making the boy flail.

“Unca Lu  _ stooooooop,”  _ he protested, only to lead to Luke wrapping his arms around his nephew, holding him tight, and Din felt something in his chest flip.

He was distracted from the feeling almost immediately, aware of the claws tapping on his helmet. He swallowed nervously, glancing at the little boy on the Jedi’s lap. The boy stared back at him, brown eyes so intense that they made him seem like an old man instead of a little kid. It felt like he was already seeing his face, like his helmet was not even there, and Din let out a sigh as he took it off. Grogu let out a happy coo, and he tried to focus on how pleased he was to see him rather than the fact that yet another person was seeing his bare face.

He was so busy focusing on Grogu, he almost missed the softly spoken, “His eyes are pretty, Unca Lu.” He definitely did not miss the half strangled noise that came from the Jedi, turning toward him just in time to see him turning away, trying to hide his face while his nephew looked entirely too smug for his age.

He stared at the two of them, trying to make heads or tails of the strange exchange, when the warm and loving atmosphere in the room suddenly  _ shifted.  _ Grogu clung to him tighter than he already was, and both the Jedi and little Ben were looking toward the far wall, like they could see something on the other side.

“Din,” the Jedi began, his voice soft but tense, “put your helmet back on.”

He did not need to be told twice; his helmet immediately snapped back over his head, and he did not question it when Ben slid off his uncle’s lap, hurrying over to him instead. He ducked down, covering both children with his armored body—

—just as the wall exploded.

Ben and Grogu clung to him tightly as debris from the wall pinged harmlessly off his armor. He heard a  _ snap-hiss  _ over the sound of the crumbling wall, followed by the hum of the Jedi’s lightsaber as it moved, deflecting the blaster fire that poured into the room next. Din hurried the kids behind cover, feeling the heat of the occasional shot that would escape the Jedi’s defense, deflecting off his beskar instead. He upended the coffee table, crouching below it with the kids tucked securely under him, before he was able to pull out his blaster and return fire, covering the Jedi.

For a few minutes, everything was complete chaos. He could not see who or  _ what  _ he was shooting at; the only thing he could see clearly was the dark of the Jedi’s clothing and the brilliant green blade, coming around in an effortless dance, just like it had on the Imperial cruiser. When the blasts finally died and the smoke slowly started to clear, that was when Din could see the floor littered with white armored bodies.

Din slowly stood from behind the coffee table, motioning for the kids to stay down as he carefully approached one of them, nudging one of the stormtroopers with a foot and trying to ignore the unsettling churn in his gut. Was that guy a voluntary recruit, or had he been a kid, dragged into service against his will? A shuddering breath came from his side, and he turned in time to see the Jedi close down his lightsaber, a solemn and almost mournful look on his face.

“This… was far too bold for the remnants,” he murmured. “What could they hope to achieve by this?”

Din was about to answer, when he became aware of a faint beeping noise. He froze, reaching into his pack and pulling out the tracking fob that had been silent until today. Now it was pinging steadily, indicating that his quarry was on the same planet he was. His gaze drifted down to the dead troopers at his feet, disgust rising in the back of his throat at the very clear answer to his unspoken question. He finally turned to the Jedi, about to say something again, only to pause at the look he was giving him. It was… distant, like he was seeing something he could not.

“Go,” he encouraged, his voice soft. “I’ll protect Grogu.”

Din nodded once, before stepping through the hole in the wall, activating his jet pack and soaring into the air. It did not take long for him to see that similar chaos was spread through the city, with troopers busting into buildings all over. He spotted more than a few dragging out kids against their will, the younger ones being carried out as their parents struggled to get them back, some being shot dead for it. For a moment, just a moment, he was down there, one of the kids being picked up by armored hands. But where the covert had taken him in and raised him by their creed, these kids were doomed to a far crueler fate if the troopers succeeded in dragging them off…

His blaster rang out before he could second guess what he was doing. One stormtrooper after another went down as he flew past, and he kept firing, ignoring the shots that were uselessly flung back at him. It was not much, but it was a good diversion, giving the Republic forces time to rush in and hopefully save the kids.

Din turned his focus back to flying once he was far from the main part of the city, grabbing for the tracking fob again. The closer to the outskirts of the city he got, the faster it started to trill, and by the time he spied the drop ships half hidden by the trees it was humming steadily, indicating his target was very close.

Seeing no point in attempting surprise, Din landed on the main ship, and instantly felt the ping of blaster fire hitting his armor. He raised an arm, his flamethrower shooting out into the face of the trooper that thought he could get an easy shot off on him. The man flailed, losing his balance and falling off the ship, landing hard on the ground below.

Din waited to see if anything else would come after him, before he jumped down to the ship’s open boarding ramp. He just got the tracking fob up when he became aware of a faint whine, like something warming up. His head shot up, catching sight of a pudgy face and equally paunch belly stuffed in a black Imperial uniform, as well as the blaster cannon he was just barely able to hold up with his thin arms.

Din had enough time to think about how much this was going to hurt, before energy punched him in the chest, and his world went black.


	3. Chapter 3

Awareness came with the feeling of someone hovering over him, but Din  _ really  _ did not want to open his eyes. He had been right in the middle of an Imperial landing zone; the chances of him waking up in a stark grey holding cell were astronomically high. Those chances steadily started going down as he realized he was still wearing his armor, and that something was pawing at his helmet, claws making clicking noises against the metal.

He groaned as he finally opened his eyes, the first thing he saw being Grogu, hovering over him and letting out worried noises. Beyond him was Ben, leaning over his son and staring down at him with eyes too old for his age. He tilted his head at him, curious, before he focused on something out of Din’s view.

“Dad! Unca Lu! He’s awake.”

The sound of boots on gravel reached his ears, and the Jedi hovered into his view after a moment, followed by an older man with tousled brown hair and a nose similar to Ben’s. While the Jedi looked down in concern, this man was giving him the stink-eye, like he was waiting for him to pull a blaster on them. Din was not sure he could even lift his arm at the moment, let alone actually hold a blaster.

“Din, stay still,” the Jedi said softly, wrapping his fingers around his hand. “You took a really hard hit. A med cart is on its way now.”

Din let out a grunt, trying to say that he did not need it, that he could tell the beskar protected him from the worst of it, but the Jedi placing his other hand on his chest made him stop. He thumped his head against the ground instead, trying not to grumble under his breath. The Jedi was just concerned about him, even though it really was not necessary, and it would not be fair to turn it away, not when he put so much effort toward Grogu. A sigh of defeat finally escaped from him when he heard his kid’s claws clack against his helmet again, and he reached a shaking hand up to pat him on the head. He knew he wanted his helmet off, but he was not about to do that; not with the other human there giving him dirty looks.

“How long was I out?” he managed to say, grateful that the vocoder in his helmet masked how his words were actually a weak rasp.

“An hour, at least,” the Jedi replied gently, and Din realized he had yet to let go of his hand, nor had he removed his other hand from his chest. The man — Ben had called him dad, right? — seemed to realize that as well, considering the way his judgemental gaze shifted over to the back of Luke’s head. After a moment, Ben’s father rolled his eyes, removing himself from Din’s field of view.

What was that about?

“The kids…” he began, fighting against a wince at how his voice sounded in his own ears. “How many did they make off with?”

“Significantly less than what they would have taken if you hadn’t helped,” Luke assured him softly, as he caught the sound of a wookiee grumble in the background. Why was there a wookiee? The Jedi glanced up in the direction of the noise, nodding, before he gave Din’s hand a squeeze as he turned his attention back to him. “The med cart is here. Rest now; we can talk more when you’re better.”

There was a protest on Din’s lips, an objection that he was  _ not  _ going to just rest because he told him to. Something felt heavy in his mind, like he was a child being wrapped securely in a warm blanket, and he realized the Jedi must have done something before blissful darkness pulled him back under.

~.oOOo.~

The next time Din woke, it was to the feel of unsettling  _ lightness  _ that came with his armor being off. The only reason he did not immediately jerk awake was because he could feel  _ some  _ kind of heaviness on his chest, despite the unsettling tingling sensation that crawled over his skin. His eyes did fly open, only to get an eyeful of a pointed green ear, and the tension of being somewhere without his metal exterior immediately bled out of him. A soft breath escaped from him, and he reached a hand up to rest it on Grogu’s back, rubbing little circles as his kid cooed happily in his sleep.

He tried to take a deep breath, only to flinch as his chest felt tight. Careful not to wake Grogu, he shifted just enough to peer under the thin white blanket that covered him, able to see the bandages that were wrapped around his torso in the dim light.

Okay.  _ Maybe  _ that cannon blast hurt more than he thought.

A frustrated noise escaped from him as he finally looked around the room. His armor was tucked away in the corner, cleaned and polished up by a careful hand, but he could still see the faintest dent from where he had been hit, and Din could not help but wince. Fine; if that blast hit him hard enough to dent pure beskar — even a little — then he was  _ definitely  _ hurt enough to warrant being stuck in a med center. As far as he could tell, the room was a private one, and he noted the distinct lack of a call button for a sentient doctor, so at least his creed was being respected to some degree.

Just as he thought to sink back and try to go back to sleep, a knock came on the door. Din jumped slightly, his hand twitching for a blaster, and the voice that followed made him tense even more than he already was.

“May I come in?” the Jedi’s soft voice flooded into the room like he was already inside. Din found himself taking in a shuddering breath, remembering what happened in his last moments of consciousness, and he was half tempted to tell the Jedi to get out — to grab his armor and his kid and take Ahsoka’s advice: let him forget about the Jedi thing and grow up normal. He did not know they could manipulate people like that, and the thought of a sweet womp rat like Grogu doing that to someone twisted his stomach.

His eyes made their way back to his armor and the faint dent in the chest piece, and he let out a frustrated sigh.

“Yeah,” he half grumbled, turning his focus to Grogu stubbornly as he heard the door open. The Jedi’s boots clacked softly against the tiled floor as he approached, the door closing behind him as he grabbed for a nearby chair. He pulled it over to the bed to sit on, and he felt his hands close around the one that was not preoccupied with Grogu. Something like electricity shot up Din’s arm at the feel of both bare skin and leather on his naked hand at once, and his head snapped toward the Jedi,  _ wanting  _ to be mad,  _ wanting  _ to tell him he was pushing it. The words died the moment he saw the genuine concern on his face, blue eyes bright in the dim room.

“How are you feeling?” he asked softly, his eyes never straying from his, and Din felt an uncomfortable lump settle in his throat.

“Fine,” he answered shortly, not trusting his voice with how awkward his throat felt. The Jedi held his gaze for a long moment, as if trying to determine if he was being honest with him or not. He finally nodded, as if he knew for certain he was telling the truth.

“The med droid thinks you’ll be able to put your armor back on tomorrow,” the Jedi assured him. “I’m not sure what to do about that dent though.”

His head turned toward his armor again, a grimace that he could not hide coming to his face. It was not a bad dent — probably did not even alter the fit of it — so taking the time to hunt down the Armorer to have it fixed was not going to be worth it, not when he had other things to worry about.

Besides, Boba had a  _ much  _ larger dent in his  _ helmet,  _ and he wore that with the same pride as if it were newly forged. He would be fine.

“Din?” Luke asked softly, drawing his attention back to him, and he felt himself flush, Grogu fussing in his sleep, like he could pick up on his embarrassment. Right, the Jedi was probably expecting a response.

“It’s fine,” he replied flatly, having trouble meeting his eyes. It was… much easier to talk to him without his helmet when Grogu was awake. It did not help that those damn blue eyes of his never seemed to want to leave his face, like he was trying to study and memorize every bit of it. Somehow, it made him feel even more naked than he already was.

“What happened?” he asked, and the Jedi tilted his head slightly, curiosity sparking in his eyes.

“Are you sure you want to go over it now?”

“No better time to.”

The Jedi hesitated, before he deflated a little, a rueful smile coming to his face. He finally let go of his hand, and Din had to fight against a shudder, suddenly feeling cold.

“There were a number of children kidnapped,” he began. “We don’t have the exact count yet, but as I said, it was significantly less than if you hadn’t shot down the troops in your path. They knew exactly what houses had kids of the age range they were looking for, and used a bombing at the senate offices as a distraction for raiding the city.”

The Jedi’s face scrunched up in a concerned frown.

“I… couldn’t sense anything. I didn’t know what was happening until just before the wall exploded…”

He shook himself after a moment, turning his focus back.

“By the time we got to you, the ships were already taking off. I… tried to stop them, but…”

He looked down at his hands, the troubled expression on his face bothering Din more than when he was staring at him. A long moment passed this time before Luke spoke again, an attempt of a smile on his face.

“I asked my sister for whatever tracking data the planetary fleet was able to obtain,” he continued. “She said she would have it tomorrow by the time you were released.”

Din nodded slightly in appreciation, and Luke peered at him again, his blue eyes boring through him, before he finally stood.

“I’ll try to stop in before you leave here, but if I can’t, I’ll be with my sister,” he said, moving to leave. “Rest well, Din.”

Before he realized what he was doing, Din’s hand shot out, grabbing the Jedi by the wrist. He stopped cold, caught off guard by the sudden action, turning back to Din with his mouth partly open in surprise.

“Don’t do that to me again,” Din forced out. “Don’t put me out like that again.”

Confusion crossed his face for a moment, before a growing horror took over his expression, as if he was just realizing what he did. His hand flew over to his, warm fingers pressing gently against his skin.

“I… I’m  _ so  _ sorry,” he replied softly. “I sensed your pain, and… I must have just  _ reacted.  _ I swear I didn’t mean to.”

It was Din’s turn to hold his gaze for a long moment, studying those deep blue eyes for what was  _ definitely  _ longer than necessary. He finally let him go, his hand slipping out from under Luke’s fingers.

“It’s fine,” he said softly, having trouble looking away from his eyes.

~.oOOo.~

As the Jedi promised, Din was able to suit back up the next morning, Grogu watching intently from where he was seated on the bed. He scooped him up once he was done, feeling comfortable in his skin once again, and held his kid close to his chest as he headed out.

He realized very quickly that the Jedi might have understated how bad the attack had been. It was clear the Imps had specifically targeted houses that had children in them, as he saw neighbors struggling to help cover holes in walls or desperately trying to comfort parents that had lost a child or other loved one in the attack. He only saw a handful of kids with parents confident enough to let them outside, a few of them stopping what they were doing to either stare or wave to him as he walked past. It was not just the kids either; where only a day ago he was receiving wary looks from the people he passed by, now there was a seemingly universal understanding that at the  _ very  _ least, he was an enemy to the remnants of the Empire. Even the troops that were around gave him a brief nod or uttered, “Mando,” in acknowledgement as he made his way to the senate building.

The building in question was a  _ mess;  _ half of the east side was completely collapsed on itself, and droid crews were already trying to clean up the debris. Judging from the amount of rubble he could see, he was sure that would take a  _ long  _ time. Grogu let out a sad noise, leaning closer to him, and part of him wondered if he could sense anyone that may have died. He cuddled him close, keeping him near enough that the little guy could tuck his head under his helmet as he made his way to the office the Jedi had messaged him about earlier, along with his apology about not being able to see him released.

When he finally got to the door in question, the door the Jedi had described as only, “my sister’s office,” Din stopped cold, staring at the name plate like it was going to reach out and bite him. Every bounty hunter that had been in the business through the time of the Rebellion knew the name he was staring at. By the end of the war, it had been the second largest bounty in the galaxy, eclipsed only near the end of it by some kid with a name he had not cared enough to remember. He had never gone after them; the  _ millions  _ of credits between the two had been tempting, but Imperial bounties were usually too much risk to be worth the reward, and he tended to avoid them even back then.

This had to be some kind of mistake, though; he had heard of the princess of Alderaan plenty of times, but never a  _ prince  _ of Alderaan.

He let out a sigh after a moment, peering over at Grogu. “Looks like your teacher has friends in high places.”

The little guy cooed, patting his chest, claws tapping against the metal. Din shook his head, before reaching out to knock. He heard something shuffle behind the door, before a feminine voice called for him to enter. The room beyond was a mess, looking like just about everything inside of it had been knocked out of place by the force of the explosion. A petite woman in a white dress — one whose face he had seen plenty of times plastered on wanted boards — was behind a large desk, looking rather harried as she tried to sort through a stack of datacards and get them properly filed away again. The Jedi was helping her, and part of him was surprised to see the other man with his cloak off, using his hands to pick things up instead of his powers.

Senator Leia Organa-Solo glanced up at him after a moment, nodding respectfully.

“Mandalorian, welcome,” she greeted him with a stiff formality that felt out of place, considering he was standing there holding an alien child that was making baby noises against his chest.

“Senator,” he replied, and Grogu started to fuss, twisting around, his tiny hands reaching out for the Jedi. He smiled gently, going over to pick him up, bouncing him a little in his arms, an action that just happened to coincide with a funny twitch in Din’s chest. It was probably just from the sudden lack of weight against him; nothing to worry about.

“I’ve been told you have tracking data for me?” he continued instead of dwelling on it. For a moment, the senator’s eyes were on her brother, one elegant brow raised as he spoiled Grogu with his attention, before she turned her focus back to Din.

“Yes, of course,” she replied, opening one of the drawers on her desk and pulling out a datacard, holding it out so he could take it. “We confirmed with the Nevarro marshal’s station that you’re working to capture Commandant Hux. Any additional aid you may require, you need only ask.”

He paused, tilting his head at the bold offer. Most jobs he took were just fob, puck, last known location (sometimes), and good luck. Rare were the offers of assistance, and he certainly was not expecting it from a New Republic senator. She seemed to pick up on his surprise (or maybe sensed it? She  _ was  _ related to a Jedi; was it a family thing?), a tight smile coming to her face.

“Brendol Hux is a blight on the galaxy that  _ dared  _ to go after  _ my  _ son,” she said, her tone even and crisp and the model of complete professionalism, but still cold enough to make Din feel like he was stripped naked in the middle of a Hoth blizzard. “The sooner he’s stopped, the better.”

She paused, her gaze flicking to her brother a moment, before she continued, “Besides, it’s only appropriate I offer assistance, after what you and Luke did to protect Ben. He hasn’t stopped talking about you since yesterday.”

Din felt a warmth come to his face, part of him wanting to say that Luke did the majority of the work. One glance toward the Jedi had the words drying up in his throat; Grogu had nestled up against his shoulder, and Luke had turned a soft and gentle smile toward him, his eyes somehow finding his own through his helmet like they always did. He tore his gaze away, though the senator had also focused her attention on her brother, an almost  _ reprimanding  _ look on her face.

This was such a  _ strange  _ family.

“I’ll keep you posted directly then,” he finally answered, before motioning to the Jedi. “Or through your brother, if it’s safer.”

“Either will work,” she replied. “Luke can provide you with my com code.”

He nodded at that, turning to leave, pausing only to give Grogu’s hand a little squeeze in goodbye. He got to the door, before the senator called after him:

“May the Force be with you, Mandalorian.”

Din made it all the way back to his ship before he realized he  _ still  _ had no clear idea of what that phrase was supposed to mean.

~.oOOo.~

The tracking data was not as useful as he had hoped. It did point him toward a region of space he did not think to look in, somewhere out past Jakku, which still was not very  _ helpful.  _ “Out past Jakku” could either mean an unmarked planetoid or beyond that, into the Unknown Regions. The area was not exactly well mapped, and the only reason anyone even knew Jakku  _ existed  _ was because the Empire made its last stand there. It was a useless rock before, and now all it was good for was scavenging the remnants of war.

It was the only starting point he had, which was why he found himself breaking the atmosphere, frowning at his instruments as if they would magically map out something resembling a civilized settlement. He ended up flying over it before his equipment could pick up the town transponder: a slapped together assemblage of tents and sand blasted shells of dead ships being used as homes. His map picked up that it was labeled Niima Outpost just as his com beeped, showing some kind of traffic control was trying to hail him, but all he got when he accepted the call was a burst of static.

“I didn’t copy. Repeat.”

Another burst of static answered him, and Din frowned at the com, wondering if it was his equipment that was faulty.

“I still didn’t copy; please repeat,” he said, peering at the unit to see if there was anything to adjust. The static started to waver in decibels, like someone was trying to tune into his signal, before a semi-clear voice finally broke through.

“Dank ferrik,  _ now  _ d’ya copy?!”

Din could already tell this was going to be a  _ fun  _ trip.

“I copy…”

“Good!” the voice on the other end snapped. “I was sayin’, you lookin’ to land, hauler?”

“Yes,” Din replied, peering out of the cockpit viewport. There was the occasional ship here and there, but there were no actual landing zones as far as he could tell.

“Just put’r down in a clear spot,” the voice instructed. “Dockin’ fee’s a hundred a day.”

That was a  _ ridiculously  _ outrageous price, but considering where he was, he was not entirely surprised.

“If I make it two hundred, will you make sure no one tries to scavenge my ship?” he asked.

“Hey, it’s your credits. I just take ‘em,” the man replied, which was not exactly reassuring. Din let out a sigh, before picking a spot that looked fairly flat and starting the landing cycle. Automatically, he reached for where his satchel would have been, as if this was still the  _ Crest,  _ as he had done so many times before in the past.

“Alright, bright eyes, lets—”

He cut himself off when his hand grabbed air, and he stared at the empty floor, taking a moment to process  _ why  _ the satchel was not there. His hand dropped, slumping back in his seat. It had been  _ months _ since he had traveled with Grogu, yet even now, he still fell into old habits.

A moment passed before he forced himself out of the pilot’s seat, checking his blaster and slipping on his jetpack before heading to the boarding ramp. The  _ heat  _ hit him as soon as he started lowering it, strong enough that he could feel it straight through his armor. If Tatooine was dangerously close to getting hot enough to be a star, this hellhole of a planet was already there. Din waited for the temperature to equalize in the ship, the hot air finally triggering the cooling vest under his armor, before he stepped out.

The glare from the sun hit him almost immediately, before his helmet could even compensate for it. Said glare must have also had quite the effect on his armor, considering the dirty looks he was getting from the locals as he made his way over to the pile of scrap that was supposed to be the docking office. The person he had been talking to over the com popped his head up; a grizzled old man that was chewing on something with exaggerated gnashing of his few remaining teeth. He reached down to crank his seat up, and Din noticed then that he was missing a leg.

“Ain’t you a shiny one,” the man commented. “Hope you weren’t comin’ here to lay low, Mando.”

“Wouldn’t come here if I was,” he replied, pulling out his payment, but not handing it over just yet. “I’m here looking for information.”

The man raised an eyebrow at that, eyeing his armor rather than the credits, and an uneasy feeling crawled up Din’s spine at the weirdly  _ hungry  _ look in his eyes.

“Depends on the kind of info you’re lookin’ for,” he finally answered after an uncomfortably long silence. “Most things go through Niima the Hutt though; s’yer best place to start.”

Din nodded in thanks, setting down his payment, though he kept his fingers on the credit chits.

“No scavengers,” he reminded him, before removing his hand. The money disappeared with a lightning fast sweep of the man’s arm, a creepy grin coming to his face as he made his chair descend.

Din had not thought before now that anything could beat Tatooine when it came to unpleasantness, but he was quickly starting to second guess that.

“Where can I—”

A hand shot up, pointing semi-unhelpfully towards the tents, and Din guessed those were the best directions he was going to get. He fought against a sigh, heading toward the tents in question and careful to stay in the shaded areas if he could, doing his best not to get the locals staring at him again.

It did not take much to realize there was no way to avoid that.

He could feel the eyes watching him as he made his way through the tents, or more accurately, watching his beskar. The same feeling of hungry eyes remained on the back of his neck, all the way until he finally found what had to be his destination: what looked like the top few levels of a Star Destroyer bridge tower — obviously something picked clean of usable parts and propped up to be used as a makeshift palace for an egocentric slug. Din paused at the steps leading up to the door that had been welded into the front, glancing around at the many stalls that surrounded the structure, lines of thin, malnourished people with  _ bags  _ of scrap waiting for their turn to trade them in for what looked like freeze dried nutrient packs.

This place was  _ miserable.  _ The sooner he left, the better.

He shook himself out of his staring, focusing back on the task at hand as he headed up the steps and into the “palace”. It did not take long to realize that this was going to be like any other Hutt den: dark, dank, smelly, and humid as hell. Even with the humidity, however, it was blissfully cooler than outside, so at least it had that going for it, but the people were less than desirable. He could feel the eyes from various Hutt goons all over him, especially when he stopped to talk with Niima’s attendant about why he was there. The green skinned twi’lek eyed him with the same kind of hunger the people outside had, before scurrying off to speak with his master.

It was taking  _ a lot  _ of effort for him to keep his hand off his blaster, which was annoying. He was definitely used to this kind of behavior around him, and he could not figure out why it was bothering him this badly. He did not think his brief trip to Chandrila spoiled him  _ that  _ much.

A long moment passed before the twi’lek returned, motioning for Din to follow him. He led him down a dark hall, Imperial grey painted over to look more like a cave, before coming out into what had once been the primary bridge. The viewport had been covered over with thick, heavy drapes, blocking the sun from getting in, and the crew pit had been gutted of everything useful and flooded, creating a murky, swampy room that absolutely  _ reeked  _ of mold. An assortment of sycophants, bounty hunters, and slaves surrounded the pools on the side walkways, leaving the path up to the deck clear. A throne of what could only be described as junk was settled on said deck, with a rotund — even for the species — Hutt lounging on it, the glaze in his eyes indicating he was spiced out of his mind.

Din felt himself ease at that; maybe this would not be as difficult as he had been afraid it would be.

｢Mando!｣ the Hutt bellowed at the sight of him, making the entire bridge fall silent. ｢I’ve been hearing your kind are starting up the habit of stealing our property out from under us.｣

Din tilted his head slightly, raising an unseen eyebrow; he must have been referring to Boba Fett. He knew him and Fennec had returned to Tatooine after their business was concluded. It was not a stretch to think they had been busy there.

“Wouldn’t know about that,” he replied, his voice cool and controlled. This was business, and the kind of business he knew well. “I’m chasing a bounty; my information pointed me to this area.”

He saw more than a few people shift nervously, and he could not help but wonder if any of them had bounties worth his time and effort.

｢All information comes with a price, Mando,｣ Niima replied, the creature’s massive, slimy tongue slipping out to lick their lips. ｢Who have you been hunting?｣

He paused again, allowing his helmet to tilt toward the Hutt’s followers, before he brought out his puck and activated it, showing Hux’s face. Niima suddenly seemed  _ very  _ alert, their slug body going rigid. Din could not help a little feeling of triumph at that; after the months he spent hunting down the slime only to get blasted by him, he was  _ finally  _ on the right track.

｢I cannot give you the information you want,｣ the Hutt rumbled, killing that triumph dead.

“Can’t or won’t?” Din shot back, the vocoder keeping the irritation out of his voice, earning himself the Hutt’s booming laugh.

｢It will mean little difference for you,｣ the Hutt near purred, and Din saw a notable number of blasters starting to slip out from their holsters. ｢I will not give up members of the First Order. They do good business, and I’m sure they’ll pay top credit for your lovely beskar armor.｣

Two things entered Din’s mind then: one was what the kark was a First Order, and the other was dank ferrik, not this  _ again.  _ He let out a sigh, helmet tilting upward to stare at the ceiling, as if to ask the stars themselves why they were putting him through this. With barely a blink, his blaster was in hand the next moment, a quick shot immediately dropping someone that was within inches of firing on him. Laser blasts erupted in the next moment as Din dashed for the exit, picking off goons as some shots pinged harmlessly off his armor.

Back out into the main hall did not improve his situation at all. He could still hear Niima shouting, ｢Kill him!  _ Kill him!｣  _ from the audience chamber, the echo carrying all through the halls and letting  _ everyone  _ in the palace know he was a target. The moment he burst into the reception hall, a blaster bolt hit him square in the helmet, ricocheting into the ceiling and causing the electronics inside to fritz momentarily. Din did not allow it to distract him, his blaster snapping up to fire back, and his view fixed itself just in time for him to see the offender drop. The second he wasted to notice it cost him, as someone slammed a meaty fist into the side of his head, causing him to stumble a moment as the goon snarled in pain, probably causing more damage to himself. Din forced himself up straight, managing to squeeze off a few shots before the creature that hit him recovered. He got to see they were a Gammorian, taller than him and muscled to the point it could not be healthy, even for that species, before the alien body checked him, slamming into him hard enough to knock the wind out of him. The creature suddenly stopped, sending him  _ flying  _ across the hall and slamming through the palace doors.

Din hit hard packed sand, scorching sunlight piercing through his helmet as he rolled over once, twice, before finally landing sprawled out on his back. As good as his armor was against lightsabers and blaster fire, an impact was still an impact, and while the likelihood of a broken bone was significantly lower than without it, it did not mean it  _ hurt  _ less.

“Ow…” he groaned, forcing himself up into a sitting position, only to feel the crawling sensation of many eyes on his back. He turned slowly, noticing that the people he had passed earlier or had observed at the trade posts were now surrounding him, hungry eyes zeroing in on his armor.

“Eight  _ hundred  _ portions to the one that brings me the beskar!” a voice rang out from one of the trading posts, and as one, the mob engulfed Din. He found himself flailing as hands swarmed all over him, trying to tug at magnetic locks on his chest armor and pauldrons, as well as his  _ helmet,  _ to the point where he could not lift his arm high enough to shoot off the flamethrower built into his gauntlets without actually setting someone on fire. It took a supreme amount of effort and smacking hands away, but he  _ did _ manage to activate his jetpack controls, shooting awkwardly up in the air. He gained enough control over his uncontrolled ascent to push himself toward the edge of the crowd, but not enough to land with anything resembling grace. Tucking in on himself, Din rolled once he hit the sand again, coming up to face the mob surging toward him— 

“Mand’alor!”

Oh…  _ haar’chak. _

Din turned his head slowly, staring at the stark red armor, with panels of purple and highlights of gold, and wondering what he did to deserve this. She stood there, clearly completely focused on  _ him  _ and not giving a single care about the mob behind him that would definitely try to tear her armor off too if given the chance. Not that it seemed like she would  _ give them  _ that chance, judging from the cruelly curved sword in her hand, the spear on her back, and who knew what else might have been built into her vambraces.

“I am—”

“Not now!”

She cut herself off awkwardly, her perplexed expression clear even without her face being visible. Din pointedly turned away from her, focusing back on the crowd, who did not seem like they were going to wait for them to sort things out first.

“You cannot reject my challenge before I make it, Mand’alor!” she snapped, recovering from her surprise.

“Little busy at the moment!” he shouted back at her, raising up the gauntlet with the flamethrower built into it. A jet of flame shot out over the heads of the crowd in warning, though it did little to deter some of them. To them, a few third degree burns was worth the chance to potentially never go hungry again. He reached back with his other hand, intending on pulling the spear and hoping it with the flamethrower would be enough to get him space to run, when he heard a loud  _ clang  _ before he could whip it off his back. He let out an annoyed noise as the screech of metal on metal pierced through his helmet, wondering if stubbornness was a requirement for all Mandalorians. His foot snapped out, kicking at one of the people in the mob that was getting too close, before extinguishing his flamethrower as the woman behind him tried to shove him forward. Din grasped his spear with both hands, ripping it violently upwards, knocking her off just as a hand with a vibro-dagger snapped toward him from the mob, aiming for a gap in his armor…

Only to be smacked away at the last second by a finely shaped wooden staff.

Din stared at the person that slid in before him, facing the crowd. They were masculine and almost petite, wearing brown slacks and a loose top that at one point had been white and carefully cleaned, but was so sandblasted that no amount of cleaning was going to restore its original color. One sleeve of the tunic was left loose, riding up slightly to show sharp, tree-like branches of red scars running down the person’s arm, while the other was carefully tucked into a compression gauntlet that covered their right hand, ending just below the elbow. Tan wrappings were spun around the person’s head, and goggles covered their eyes, protecting them from the harsh elements and hiding their face.

They glanced back at Din, before nodding behind him toward the other Mandalorian, a clear statement of, “Take care of your business, I’ve got this.”

Din found himself letting out a relieved breath; it was about  _ time  _ something went right today!

He worked his neck back and forth, turning so him and the stranger stood back to back, facing down their respective opposition. Din palmed the spear back and forth between his hands, settling into a ready stance, and he felt the person behind him do the same, modified slightly to accommodate the lack of a piercing end on their weapon. A strange feeling passed between them, like both their hearts beat as one, like the sound of war drums in perfect sync, before they both exploded toward their opponents.

Din’s spear lanced out, beskar clashing against beskar in counterpoint to the faint  _ thud thud  _ of wood striking flesh. The Mandalorian woman’s sword hooked around his spear, trying to wrest it from his grasp, but he held on tight, dragging her toward him instead. He released one hand at the last second, letting the blunt end come around and smack the side of her helmet, sending her stumbling away.

In the brief pause in his fight, he glanced in the direction of his defender, trying to see if they were going to need help, but they definitely did  _ not.  _ In the few seconds it took him to send her stumbling, they had already downed a handful of people, leaving them groaning on the sand as they moved in on the mob. It was like watching a dance, the staff an extension of their arms and legs, to the point where if he could not see them so clearly, it would have been hard to tell where they ended and the weapon began. There was not a  _ word  _ for how beautiful it was to see, like a song in motion, their movement the lyrics and the strike of the staff setting the tempo.

He probably would have kept staring, maybe even shuddering at the tight, twisting feeling in the pit of his stomach, if the woman he was supposed to be fighting had not let out an enraged battlecry.

His head snapped back to her as she charged at him, Din throwing up the spear in a hasty block, swinging it around in the next second to avoid her followup strike. He shifted his stance, trying to slip under her guard, but she did not give him the chance. Her blade slammed  _ sharply  _ against the spear, the metal vibrating hard enough to send tremors crawling up his arms.

“You disrespect me by not allowing me to issue a proper challenge,” she hissed in rage,  _ “now  _ you dishonor me by not taking this fight seriously. You are a poor excuse for a Mand’alor!”

He was  _ really  _ getting tired of people calling him that. Din grunted, his muscles straining as he tried to push her off, his arms trembling from the effort.

“Didn’t… ask for it!” he ground out, letting out a snarl as he finally shoved her away. He pushed himself back from her, putting distance between them as he fought for breath back. “It was supposed to go to Bo-Katan, but she wouldn’t take it!”

The woman paused at that, an incredulous tilt to her helmet.

“Bo-Katan?” she echoed, sounding just short of laughing in his face. “Of the Death Watch? Who only took up the Darksaber because it had been dishonorably passed on to a traitor, and there was no one else who could unite the clans? Who once led us to battle, only to pitifully fall to an outsider?  _ That  _ Bo-Katan?”

Din felt his insides go cold, understanding of the situation he had been tricked into suddenly pressing heavily against his shoulders, making his armor feel too stuffy and hard to breathe in. No wonder Bo-Katan had gone quiet when he tried to get her to take the saber back. She had never earned it in the first place; had taken the responsibility and failed. She had no other choice  _ but  _ to face Gideon in battle, and he had stolen that from her, forcing it on Din instead.

And if this “Death Watch” was anything like the “Children of the Watch”, as she had called his covert, then she had  _ a lot  _ of nerve calling  _ him  _ a cultist.

“Issue your challenge.”

“What?” she asked, and even he could not believe he was saying this. He did not  _ want  _ this; he did not  _ want  _ to fight for a world he barely even remembered. His role fighting in the Purge had been minimal at  _ best,  _ fresh in his armor and hardly a frontline fighter. Mandalor meant almost nothing to him, a cursed place where nothing lived and no one returned from, and being tricked into taking the responsibility of its  _ ruler  _ made him care even less.

But after hearing that, like  _ hell  _ he was just going to hand it off.

“I  _ said,  _ issue your challenge.”

Silence hung between them, and the woman passed her blade from hand to hand, almost like she was approving of his shift in attitude. She finally settled into an aggressive stance, blade raised above her head like she intended to split him in two.

“I am Vera Beroya, chieftain of clan Awaud. I challenge you for the right to wield the Darksaber.”

Din was silent a moment, spear clenched tightly in his hands, but he could barely feel it. Instead, all he could feel was a heavy weight at his side, the pull of the weapon he had clipped to his belt and, until now, refused to think about. Now he eased himself out of his stance, swinging the spear behind him to clip it back into its place.

His hand closed around the hilt at his side, pulling it off his belt, feeling something like electricity thrumming through his arm. It was like desire and battle lust and rage and fear all rolled into one, clawing up his arm, climbing down his spine and, when he finally ignited the blade, it all burst out of him at once. Light died around the black blade, only to have its remnants cling to the edges, snapping through even the overwhelming brightness of Jakku’s sun as he settled into a stance counter to hers.

“Come take it.”

Vera lunged for him, a sharp  _ crackling  _ snapping through the air as metal met plasma. She immediately forced him on the defensive, her aggression almost threatening to overwhelm him right away. The chieftain was clearly well versed in the use of swords, whereas Din had not used one since training. He preferred to use a blaster and keep his distance, something essential in his line of work — it was cold, clean, and impersonal, keeping a wall between him and what he was doing.

Things had changed, though; he was not just a bounty hunter anymore. He was a friend to outsiders, to old enemies, to people from a government he did not care for, but had been able to set aside his distaste for the sake of doing the right thing. More importantly, he was a  _ father,  _ and had no need for the aloofness he had hid behind all these years, the newfound care he had forged into a weapon that gave him strength to fight like he never had before.

And he was a Mandalorian;  _ all  _ weapons were part of his religion.

With a guttural cry, he snatched one last aggressive blow from her with his blade and pushed  _ up,  _ forcing her to hold the block against the Darksaber, her metal weapon quickly starting to glow red from the heat. Din shoved her off hard, forcing her into a recovery position that he  _ barely  _ gave her a chance to pull out of before he was on her, taking the offensive.

The Darksaber crackled with each strike, feeling like it was feeding off the battle with every blow. His skin felt as hot as the plasma, the fight and the blade making his body a furnace that  _ begged  _ to be fed with the cries of war. It helped that she was fighting with everything she had, dancing whatever strikes she could around his assault, her blade striking armor but unable to angle around him well enough to connect to flesh. Distant cries sang out in harmony with their battle, a dim part of his mind acknowledging that his defender was still fighting as well, and he swore he could still feel the drum of their heart, beating in time with his, even though they were nowhere near each other.

Vera’s blade was red hot from the battle, the intense heat almost going from hilt to tip and increasing with every strike. He was not surprised when one last blow  _ cut through  _ the blade entirely, half of it sent snapping through the air before landing, smoking, in the sand. It caught her off guard, sending her fumbling back, clutching the remains of the weapon as she tried to recover. The Darksaber rose just as she planted her feet, the edge of the plasma a mere breath from the center of her breastplate.

“Yield,” Din ordered.

For a moment, he almost thought she would not; that she would smack the blade away with her vambrace and continue the fight with her spear. But her helmet rose, standing tall and proud despite the exhaustion she had to be feeling.

“I yield,” she stated, and Din lowered the blade, the battle over. “Well fought, Mand’alor,” she continued, folding her hands behind her back. “Clan Awaud acknowledges your right to rule. No others of my clan will come to challenge you. We will stand ready for your call to unite the houses.  _ Ret’urcye mhi.” _

Vera inclined her head respectfully, before sharply turning, abandoning the superheated blade piece in the sand and heading off in the direction of the meager spaceport. Din watched her go, waiting until she was completely out of sight, before he allowed himself to sag in relief, his heart still pounding in his chest. The only time he had fought that hard was when Gideon attacked him; and even then, compared to  _ her,  _ the former ISB was  _ nothing.  _ He found himself staring down at the hilt in his hand, part of him wondering if that battle frenzy had come from the blade, or if it had always been in him, waiting for the right weapon to  _ wake it up. _

A moment passed, before Din realized it was far quieter than it should have been. His attention snapped up to his defender and where the mob  _ was;  _ most of it had been forced to disperse, the remains either on the ground in pain, gathering up the energy and pride needed to crawl away, or were slinking off slowly, disappearing into the tents. His defender hovered near them, ready to strike in the event anyone thought they could get the drop on them. None tried, and before long they shouldered their staff, approaching Din.

“I wouldn’t have been able to handle both at once,” he began. “Thanks for… the…”

He trailed off, eyes widening and his face burning hot enough to rival the desert around them as the person reached for their face wraps, tugging them loose enough to reveal sandy blonde hair. The googles were pushed up next, and the brilliant blue eyes underneath met his unerringly through his helmet.

“You’re welcome, Din,” Luke replied, that serene Jedi smile of his turning into an amused smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't usually slip in words from Star Wars' languages unless they're something frequently used in the shows/movies that the meaning is known or at least easy to infer. Mando'a hasn't appeared in _any_ of my previous fics, however, so I'll provide translations at end notes when they appear. I'll try not to make this a frequent thing.
> 
> Mando'a Translations:  
> * Haar'chak: dammit  
> * Ret’urcye mhi: goodbye (lit. "Maybe we'll meet again")


	4. Chapter 4

“What are you  _ doing  _ here?!”

The Jedi leaned away from him slightly, both eyebrows raised, like he could not understand why Din would react that way. He  _ should  _ have expected it as far as he was concerned; the Jedi was supposed to be somewhere nice and peaceful with his  _ son,  _ sipping tea, meditating, and making things float. Being in the middle of nowhere, dressed like a fashionista’s idea of a sand rat, was the complete opposite of where he  _ should  _ be.

“It looks like I’m saving you,” he finally replied, the amusement still gracing his face, and Din wanted to smack a hand over his mouth to hide that  _ damn  _ smirk.

“Where is Grogu?” he demanded, stopping his train of thought before it could go down a path he did not want it on. That smirk was wiped from the Jedi’s face then, his lips turning down into a tight frown that was almost a  _ pout,  _ like Din had just insulted him.

“He’s safe,” he assured him. “I left him with my sister.”

Din felt lightheaded, he was so angry; what happened to giving his life to protect his kid?! Did he think he would be  _ okay  _ with him passing Grogu off to family members like he was a  _ normal  _ toddler?! He was  _ not!  _ Grogu was special and dangerous people had been after him and there could be more of them out there they don’t know about, and he wanted to  _ yell  _ at this  _ cocky brat  _ for not taking it seriously and—

...and then Din remembered the frost covered  _ fire  _ the senator had breathed out when talking about the people that tried to kidnap her young son. Just like that, his anger was sapped out of him, replaced with a shaky relief as he realized Grogu was probably safer with her than the damn Jedi.

He was about to say something, at least to make an attempt at an apology for being ungrateful, when a blaster shot suddenly pinged off a pauldron. They both turned at the same time, watching as Hutt goons started pouring out of the palace, blasters blazing.

Oh. Right. He forgot about them.

He swore under his breath as another shot bounced harmlessly off his armor, and the Jedi’s lightsaber suddenly appeared in his hands, reflecting shots harmlessly away as they both wordlessly agreed to  _ get out of there.  _ The two of them barrelled into the gathered tents, running and jumping their way back to the landing area. Din could hear crashing coming from behind him, and he did not need to look to know the Hutt’s slime suckers were hot on their heels.

They broke out of the tents, out into the open air and he could see his ship in the distance, thankfully looking untouched in the time he had been away from it, though he was regretting landing as far away as he did. He also saw the Jedi turn around, lightsaber raised and a bag tucked over his shoulder (when had he grabbed that?), looking ready to face down their pursuers.

“Get the ship up, I’ll hold them off!”

...was he serious?

...he was being totally serious.

Din let out a deep, bone weary sigh, staring up at the sky for a moment; of  _ all  _ the people to follow him out here, why did it have to be  _ this  _ Jedi? Why could it not have been the nice lady instead?

“No time for heroics,” he finally grumbled, and that was the only warning he gave him before he ducked down, wrapping an arm around his midsection and lifting him up. The Jedi let out the most indignant, sputtering squeak he ever heard come out of a sentient being’s mouth, feet flailing uselessly for the ground to be back under them. Din activated his jetpack in the next moment, that squeak turning into a high pitched  _ yelp  _ as he rocketed the two of them to his ship.

He landed just shy of the boarding ramp, vaulting up it and not dropping the Jedi until he had already smacked the ramp control to close it up. Luke fumbled to maintain his footing once he was freed, his face so red the color was sneaking into his scalp, visible under his hair, but Din did not stick around long enough to see how much worse it could get. He vaulted himself toward the cockpit, barely sitting down before he had the engines up and running. The ship was up in the air once they were fully primed, and he did not even bother with the preflight, shooting the ship off across the desert dunes, leaving their pursuers shouting uselessly in their wake.

~.oOOo.~

The sun was setting low over the horizon when Din finally felt safe enough to land. He tucked the ship into the looming ruins of a Star Destroyer, hiding it from immediate view from above, before shutting everything down, intent on drawing as little attention as possible. He heard the ramp lower behind him, and he looked up to see the Jedi emerge, gazing up at the metal husk with something like sadness in his eyes. Din paused, watching him as he made his way out of the shadow of the Star Destroyer, finally stopping and staring as the unforgiving sun slowly sank below the dunes. It seemed like a profound moment, like Din was watching something deeply personal when he should not be, and he found himself averting his eyes, finishing the shutdown sequence before leaving the cockpit.

By the time he gathered some camping supplies and left the ship, Luke had come back and was crouched down near the ramp, working on pulling together a makeshift fire pit. A lump of tattered Imperial uniforms he found from… somewhere was beside him, and Din  _ really  _ did not want to think about where he found them, or even why he was going through that much trouble. Did this kid live on making things as complicated as possible?

Din cleared his throat to catch the Jedi’s attention, lifting up the portable camping heater in his hand for him to see. He froze, and even in the dimming light, he could see his face turning a vivid shade of red again. Wordlessly, he stepped away, leaving Din to set up camp while he went to discard the unsettling uniforms.

By the time the last rays of the sun disappeared, they were both relaxing by the heater, Luke huddling close while Din reclined comfortably against what might have been part of an engine coil. The Jedi was quiet, munching absently on a field ration as he stared at nothing, like he was seeing something that Din could not. He kept his eyes focused on him, leaving his helmet on as he observed him, trying to figure him out. His prowess as a warrior was unquestionable; he had already seen what he could do on Gideon’s cruiser, but the fight before proved he was also surprisingly capable of mercy.

He let out a slow breath, working it over and over again in his mind and eventually deciding not to dwell on it. Ultimately, he probably should not have been surprised. That mob had been made up of desperately hungry people; it was hard  _ not  _ to want to show mercy.

“So,” Din began, breaking the silence, “why did you follow me?”

Luke’s gaze looked like it came back to reality, before his eyes flicked over to him, and he swallowed the last of his tasteless ration.

“Grogu,” he replied. “He had a vision of you getting hurt; him ad Ben both. They pleaded with me to go out here to help you.”

Din was silent, raising a judgemental eyebrow under the helmet.

“A vision?” he deadpanned, earning himself a grim smile.

“Sometimes, the Force can give a Jedi a look into events out of the flow of time,” he explained. “Vivid, spontaneous visions of the future seem to run in my family, so I treat them seriously when they happen.”

That sounded like a pile of Bantha poodoo, but the serious look on the Jedi’s face kept him from saying so. If he could “see the future”, he was not about to tell him he was crazy, nevermind that was entirely crazy.

Luke reached across the heater, grabbing for the canteen and allowing Din to get another look at the tree-like scars on his arm as his sleeve rode up again. His hand snapped out before he could retreat with the water, grabbing his wrist. The Jedi froze, confusion written all over his face, only for his eyes to slowly widen as Din reached out with his other hand, his gloved fingers lightly trailing over one of the twisted branches.

“Where did you get this?” he asked, looking up at Luke again to see he had a mynock in headlamps expression on his face. He swallowed hard, struggling with words as Din’s hand absently trailed higher once his fingers found the trunk of the scar, pushing the sleeve up further, and…

Where… was the end of it?

“How big is this thing?” he asked softly, and in that moment, Din saw the awkward but calm Jedi disappear, the haunted look of a man that had seen and felt too much replacing him. He slipped his hand out of his, and for a moment Din thought he was just going to stay silent and retreat into the ship to get away from him. Instead, he reached up, loosening his tunic and slipping the bare arm out of the sleeve, pushing it off the other shoulder as far as he could.

Din’s eyes widened in shock, his mouth going dry as it hung open. It was like a forest of scars on Luke’s body, branches tracing lines of toned muscle, thick trunks growing up his sides and along his chest, disappearing into the other sleeve that was tucked into the compression gauntlet. It was all a faint red, some of the trunks a little darker than others, while some of the branches puffed out from the skin more.

“It used to be worse,” Luke finally spoke, his voice sounding more like the whisper of leaves over stone than the confident young man he knew him as. “I had tried treatments at first, but they could only ease the scars back a little at a time, and it was better to deal with it than to constantly have the taste of bacta in my mouth.”

He fell quiet, and Din did not know  _ what  _ to do. That level of lightning scarring… he should be  _ dead.  _ No normal human could have survived that kind of damage, let alone be perfectly fine to move around as Luke did.

“What did that to you?” he finally found the voice to ask. A soft snort escaped from Luke, a bit of a watery smile coming to his face.

“Not ‘what’, ‘who’,” he corrected, hesitating a moment, before pressing on, seemingly before he lost his nerve. “There are… abilities in the Force that are only meant to cause pain, are only meant for evil. When I… refused to give into that kind of darkness, when I showed I would never bow to it, I was tortured with Force generated lightning. The… they were trying to draw out my death, make it as painful as they possibly could, and their overconfidence led to my rescue.”

A cold feeling of dread clawed up Din’s spine, his eyes drifting down to the forest of scars again. This Force, this power that Jedi used, was beyond his understanding at best, but the more he saw and heard of what it could do, the more terrifying it sounded.

Din found himself reaching out again, his fingers finding the thickest truck on his abdomen. The skin under his touch jumped and tensed, a shuddering breath escaping from Luke. His fingers trailed down the length of it, along lines of muscle, and he could feel him leaning into the touch… before he suddenly jerked away, like he just came to his senses. That Jedi calm was quickly masking his face again, his expression somber as he readjusted his tunic, hiding himself.

“I’m going to go to sleep,” he said softly. “We can plot out what we’re going to do in the morning.”

Luke shuffled away from him, pulling over a blanket and curling himself away from Din. He stared at him for a long moment, realizing dumbly that he had stepped  _ way  _ out of line with what he did.

“Dank ferrik,” he muttered under his breath, thumping his helmet against the engine coil.

~.oOOo.~

Breakfast the next morning came early, the both of them rising with the first rays of the sun. It was also  _ insanely awkward,  _ the both of them refusing to look at each other, the Jedi munching on another field ration and Din absently polishing his spear, and they both sat as far apart from each other as possible without being rude.

“So…” Luke finally broke the silence. “What happened before everything went south?”

Din glanced over at him, waiting to see if he would look at him, only to turn away with a sigh when he did not.

“I got a lead on Hux,” he replied. “The Hutt that controls that outpost recognized him when I showed him the puck.”

The Jedi’s face scrunched up in distaste the moment he said “Hutt”, taking an annoyed bite out of his food. Din glanced back at him, raising an eyebrow, wondering what was up with that reaction. He waited a moment to see if he would say anything, before continuing:

“He didn’t say he was part of the Empire, though. He mentioned a ‘First Order’ instead.”

The Jedi froze, and Din swore he felt a chill run down his spine. He finally turned toward him then, genuine concern and worry and  _ fear  _ in his eyes, and Din felt a heavy weight settle in his gut. If this First Order made the Jedi afraid, then it could not be anything good.

“Did you say First Order?” he finally asked, his eyes staring at his, like he could see them well enough to judge if he was telling the truth. Din merely nodded, still unsettled by his reaction, and Luke slumped back, a haunted look coming to his face.

“It’s going to happen all over again.”

He almost missed the soft words, spoken with the same unsettling tone he had used last night when explaining his scars.

“What is?”

Luke snapped his head up at Din’s question, before taking a deep breath, closing his eyes in and effort to steady himself. When he opened them again, his calm was back, though ghosts still seemed to haunt his eyes.

“People unite in adversity,” he explained, “even perceived adversity. We’ve only heard whispers and rumors until now, but it seems the Imperial remnants are uniting under a new banner, as the Rebellion once did.”

Din’s thoughts immediately snapped to Grogu, and how Gideon had gone out of his way to get his blood. They had never found any kind of lab samples on the cruiser, so they just assumed that Gideon had lied about taking it. Originally, he had not thought anything of it, that it just  _ ended  _ there… but what if they  _ had  _ taken a sample? What if they sent it off already?

What if Gideon was working  _ for  _ someone?

The Jedi seemed to pick up on his dread, abruptly standing up and turning off the heater.

“We need to sneak back into Niima Outpost,” he began. “Fortunately, I know where we can get help.”

~.oOOo.~

Help led them deeper into the desert wastes of Jakku, with Din keeping the ship low to the ground, just in case. The Jedi sat beside him in the co-pilot’s seat, though he was not exactly  _ helping;  _ instead of navigating, he sat there with his eyes closed, his breathing unnaturally even to the point where it was starting to creep Din out. He stole glances at him every now and then, like he was trying to determine if he was still the Jedi, or if he had somehow been replaced with a droid when he was not looking. He immediately regretted even thinking as much, a shudder of old fear crawling down his spine.

“You’re being distracting,” the Jedi suddenly spoke, making Din jump a foot out of his seat. He fumbled for a moment, damn near losing control of the ship, shooting him an annoyed glare once he regained it.

_ “I’m  _ distracting,” Din grumbled, not meaning for that to be said loud enough to hear.

“Your thoughts are loud,” Luke replied, his voice an unsettling monotone. He stared at him, not sure if he was being serious or not. Din finally let out a sigh, longing to understand just  _ one  _ thing that came out of the Jedi’s mouth.

“I’ll… try to think quieter,” he muttered, stubbornly focusing on flying and refusing to look at him.

A long moment passed, before the Jedi let out a slow breath, slumping back in the seat like he had just finished running a lap around the entire planet. Din glanced over at him, reminded of the times Grogu would use his powers, and promptly pass out. He was about to ask what he had been doing, when he paused, his gaze flicking down to the navigation panel. It had been altered, and it took him a moment to realize he had been unconsciously following a path plotted out in the computer without Luke ever touching it. His eyes snapped to the Jedi again, torn between being impressed he could do that without him noticing and annoyed he had not said anything. If he could feel the glare coming from under his helmet, Luke did not comment on it, instead reaching up a hand to run his fingers through his hair, before turning one of those Jedi smiles to him.

“They should be up after the next dune,” he explained. “You might want to start slowing down.”

He got up then, heading into the back, and Din almost wanted to keep going at speed just to be contrary. He grumbled under his breath, but began to slow as he crested the next dune, revealing a small settlement of tents and adobe buildings nestled in a ravine. Carefully, trying not to think about how he would have  _ completely  _ missed this place if it were not for the Jedi’s guidance, he slipped the ship between the rocky walls, coasting along the floor of the ravine until he found a spot flat enough to land, near where an older man stood, almost like he was waiting for them. The man did not budge as he started the landing cycle, the ship kicking up sand and dust and tossling the man’s dark hair.

Once the ship settled, he heard the ramp lower, and saw Luke leave the ship, suddenly back in his black Jedi clothes and leaving Din wondering how the hell he changed so damn fast, or where the hell he stowed away those damn boots. He watched, slowly shutting the ship down, as the two of them bowed to each other, the man’s hands pressed together before him.

Din could not help but think of Bo-Katan calling his covert a cult, and wondering if she would blow a fuse over this.

The two of them were speaking softly with one another by the time he made it out of the ship, though they paused as he approached, the man smiling at him, kindly eyes shining brightly in the sunlight. He was closer to his age than the Jedi’s, dark hair showing signs of greying, and wearing homespun robes that had been worn over by sand for years.

“The last of the Jedi Masters traveling with a Mandalorian,” the man said, humor in his voice. “I am certain scores of those that came before you both would be rolling in their graves.”

Din raised an unseen eyebrow at that, glancing over at Luke. From what he could see of his face under the hood of his cloak, the “Jedi look” was firmly attached, his expression neutral and radiating an aura of calm. After seeing him so expressive the day before, it was  _ exceptionally _ unsettling that he could flip a switch like that then he cared to admit.

“Well,” Din finally began, turning his gaze back to the man, “no point in maintaining ancient grudges when both our people have been nearly wiped out.”

“Too true,” the man replied, before reaching out to shake his hand. “Lor San Tekka, lore keeper for the Church of the Force. Welcome to Tuanul.”

Din grasped his hand briefly, his unseen gaze flicking over to the Jedi again. A church for that thing Jedi were supposed to use for their powers, hunh? No wonder he was putting on this mask; the people here probably thought of him like some kind of god or something. And what was that about being the last of the Jedi Masters? What about Ahsoka?

Luke’s gaze flicked over to him, blue eyes meeting his briefly, sending a chill down Din’s spine, before he looked away.

“Lor,” the Jedi began softly, “we’re tracking someone that tried to take Ben, who may have other Force sensitive children in his possession, whether he is aware of it or not. We believe the Hutt in control of Niima Outpost may have the answers we seek, but we were chased out. We need a way to slip into the outpost again.”

An amused look came to San Tekka’s face, as if he knew exactly what they had just gone through, before he nodded in acknowledgement, folding his arms into the sleeves of his robe.

“There are those here that make stops to the outpost for trading purposes,” he replied. “We can smuggle you in along with one, though…”

He trailed off, glancing toward Din, and he had a feeling he knew what was going to be said next.

“My creed forbids the removal of my helmet in the presence of others,” he explained. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the “Jedi look” drop for a second, Luke’s eyes widening, before it was firmly shoved back into place.

“Understood,” San Tekka replied, before motioning for them to follow him. “Come, we should be able to find you both food and sufficient disguises.”

The next hour found Din seated alone for a proper meal, before he was handed off between various others, all of whom tried to find some way to cover up his armor. The homespun cloth they had was dreadfully thin, requiring several layers to keep the shine of beskar from showing through. To make matters worse, no one in the village seemed to be as  _ tall  _ as he was, and even the longest of robes available ended somewhere around mid-calf.

Eventually, the travelers settled for hiding him in their cart of various goods, piling everything in front of him to hide him from immediate view. Luke, though he was  _ much  _ easier to disguise than he was, elected to join him, if only as an attempt at solidarity. Normally Din would not have cared, except that the cart was  _ small,  _ leading to the two of them being crammed together so tightly that their shoulders were shoved up against the walls of the cart  _ and  _ each other.

An awkward silence stretched between them for  _ hours,  _ and it did not take too long into it before Din was losing his  _ damn  _ mind. The silence did not bother him; he was used to being alone, even after the time he spent traveling with Grogu. Normally he just would have conserved his energy, grabbed a quick nap, and if it were not for what happened last night, he might have already done that. But he was very,  _ very  _ intimately aware of the arm pressed up against him, and what lay underneath the dark fabric that closed him off. He vividly remembered tracing branches of scars with his finger tips, and was cursing himself for not taking his glove off to  _ feel  _ them. His hand twitched slightly, his mind wandering, wondering how soft it would feel under his callouses. Thinking of that brought to mind the shuddering breath Luke had let out, imagining what other noises he—

“I’m sorry.”

Luke’s voice quickly —  _ thankfully —  _ pulled his mind out of the gutter it was diving into. Din hesitated a moment, his throat feeling tight and his face burning, and he had to fight to get his heart to stop doing flips in his chest.

“For what?” he asked, the vocoder in his helmet making him sound  _ much  _ calmer than he actually was.

“After seeing you take your helmet off for Grogu, I assumed you didn’t feel comfortable showing your face to anyone outside of family,” Luke answered softly. He was not looking at Din, like he was afraid to, pulling his legs up and hugging them close to his chest. “I didn’t realize you  _ couldn’t  _ take it off.”

Ah, that. For a moment, Din was going to shrug it off; Luke did not know about his creed, and he was not going to hold that against him. Luke, however, had at least made  _ some  _ attempts to explain Jedi things when he questioned them, not that he understood any of it. It was only fair that he at least attempted to return the favor.

“I’ve… recently learned that not all Mandalorians follow the same creed I do,” he began finally. “My covert was more…  _ traditional  _ than others.”

He refused to refer to the Tribe as a cult himself; strict in the old ways or not, they were still his covert.

“What does it mean when you remove your helmet?” came the expected question, and Din felt an ache lurch in his chest.

“...then I am no longer Mandalorian.”

He felt Luke’s eyes on him then, and he did not need to look to see the sympathy there. It made him feel uncomfortable, more than him flipping his Jedi mask on and off, to the point where he wanted to fidget. The close quarters were not conducive to that though, and he found himself staring at a random point away from Luke.

“This is the way,” he finally said. Most people would have just left it at that; drop the topic and move on to something else. But Luke was far from being most people, and it was not long before he felt a hesitant, gloved hand slide onto his arm.

“But is it your way?” he asked softly and, when Din did not answer, added, “Do  _ you  _ think you’re still a Mandalorian?”

Din tried, he  _ really  _ tried, to answer that question. But no matter how much he struggled for a response, he found himself unable to give one. Despite how two other Mandalorians had hunted him down and fought him for the Darksaber, thinking him Mand’alor, he just  _ did not know  _ if he was even one of them anymore.

Luke must have been able to sense his frustration at not being able to answer him; he gave his arm a squeeze, as if wordlessly assuring him he would find his answer eventually.

~.oOOo.~

A sudden  _ jerk  _ of the cart had Din very near jumping awake, not even realizing he had fallen asleep in the first place. It took him a moment to remember what exactly he was doing in a cart, drowsy from the unexpected nap, when a faint buzz reached his ears. He looked down to see Luke snuggled up against him, the side of his face planted on the pauldron that bore his clan signet. Din winced, even as he felt himself flush at the sight, knowing that would leave a mark on the Jedi’s face.

“Hey, wake up,” he murmured, gently nudging him. Luke came awake with a start, pulling away and rubbing at his eyes. “The Jedi” had not kicked in yet, giving Din a clear view of a man that looked younger than he actually was. At least one thing was going for Luke in terms of age; a shadow of hair was peppering his face. He was probably going to be the type to have a big, full beard if he ever let it grow out.

...he really needed to stop letting his brain think so much about how the Jedi looked.

“Are we there?” he finally mumbled, blinking the last of the sleep from his eyes.

“Seems like,” he answered, modulated voice betraying nothing. Not a moment after he said so, the junk in front of them shifted, revealing the face of one of the travelers from Tuanul. They slid out once the traveler assured them it was clear, Luke heading out first as Din tried to unfold himself. By the time he squeezed himself out, the Jedi mask was back up, and he was bowing respectfully to the other man.

“Force be with you in your travels.”

“And also with you, Master Jedi,” the traveler returned, before busying himself with his cart.

Din frowned at the Jedi’s back as he pulled the hood of his cloak up, the two of them slipping into the shadows of the Outpost, wondering when the last time someone outside of Luke’s family called him by name.

It was a moment before they came in sight of Niima’s makeshift palace, but unlike the collection of tents they were hiding in — darkened and silent for the night — there was a flurry of activity, and a bright light focused on the front of the cut down Star Destroyer tower. They both paused, exchanging confused looks, before ducking low and shuffling toward the end of the tents…

Only to get a clear view of a  _ Lambda _ -class transport, the kind of shuttles the Empire favored for in-system flight or short hyperspace hops. Which meant they came from  _ somewhere  _ in the vicinity of Jakku.

They stayed silent for a long moment, watching the shuttle’s lights on the makeshift palace, showing people going back and forth with cargo containers, along with two sets of stormtroopers guarding whatever exchange was taking place. Luke glanced back, motioning for them to pull away from the sight for a moment, slipping a bit further into the darkness.

“What do you want to do?” he asked softly. “We could plant a tracker on the shuttle and stay here, interrogate Niima and free these people from them before following, or we can stowaway on board.”

Din frowned at the last suggestion; stowaway? Was he insane?

“We’ll never get in there, not with those troops guarding it.”

He should have known that Luke would smile at his disbelief, the mischievous light in his blue eyes visible in the dark.

“Leave that to me; we just need to wait for the cargo runners to stop.”

He had a  _ bad  _ feeling about this, but Luke was clearly not going to rush into anything without his permission. Din bit his lip, trying to think quickly and decide what was the best solution. On one hand, they had a safer choice, but there was no guarantee the tracker would not be found or that Niima would have any information on where to find Hux. On the other, there was a guaranteed transport to, if not Hux, then a place where they could get information on his whereabouts, but it was  _ insanely  _ dangerous.

Dank ferrik, he could not believe he was going to go for this.

“Stowaway,” he decided, before pointing a warning finger at Luke. “You better be right about dealing with the stormtroopers.”

He nodded confidently, before turning back toward the shuttle, hunched over like he was waiting for the signal to sprint across the sand. Eventually, the cargo runners petered out, and the stormtroopers guarding the doors to Niima’s palace went inside, probably to wait for whatever commanding officer was negotiating within. The Jedi took off then, slipping through the darkness like a wraith and leaving Din struggling to even  _ see  _ him to keep up. He finally popped back into view right  _ in front  _ of the stormtroopers, and he nearly bolted, watching as the troops moved to raise their blasters—

—and then Luke waved a hand in their faces, and the two troopers stopped. There was a tense moment where Din was  _ certain  _ Luke was going to get shot… when the troopers just went back to their guard position, like there was not a Jedi standing right in front of them, motioning for Din to hurry.

How the  _ kark  _ did he  _ do  _ that?

There was no time for him to ask; he bolted for the ship, slipping inside with Luke just behind him. They made their way into the cargo hold together, quickly climbing over boxes to get to the very back. They succeeded just as they heard voices nearby, and Din ducked down to hide behind a box while Luke stood, his back pressed against a stack of them.

“—believe we’re buying back our own materials,” a stuffy voice grumbled.

“It’s better than the alternative,” someone sniffed out a reply. “Besides, Niima will outlive his usefulness soon enough.”

The voices faded off as they continued into the ship, and Din looked up to see Luke’s lips pursed into a thin line. Even he had to admit, it was a  _ foul  _ operation they had going on: taking advantage of poor people, keeping them on the edge of starvation, just to scavenge what they could of the remains of their own ships.

He shook his head, about to ease himself into a more comfortable position, when the ship suddenly jerked  _ hard.  _ Whoever was flying this thing had all the grace of a bantha, and the  _ lurch  _ that followed knocked Luke off balance. Din saw him bite his tongue against a yelp as Luke landed on top of him. Another  _ jerk  _ from the ship disrupted the boxes, forcing Din flat on his back in an effort to keep them from being crushed. The containers ended up wedged against the wall, blocking them into an even tighter space than they had been in the cart. They both stayed very still, listening to the voices above them, one of the people they heard before accusing someone of flying like a drunk Moff. No one came into the cargo hold, and Din would have sighed in relief if Luke had not let out a shuddering gasp, drawing his attention to  _ how  _ they landed.

The small space they were crammed in forced Din to bend his legs at odd angles in order to fit. Luke was planted  _ firmly  _ on one of them, his own legs on either side, and he could feel him struggling not to clench them together or  _ move at all,  _ muscles shuddering from tension. When he fell, Din had unconsciously wrapped his arms around him, planting him flat against him, his head tucked just under his helmet. He was not sure which of them had the faster heart at the moment, just that he could feel Luke’s even through his armor, and swore he could feel the heat from his no doubt  _ bright red  _ face as well. What was worse, was there was no way they could even try to move, either themselves or the boxes, not without making noise that would definitely draw attention.

Din thumped his head against the back of his helmet, the inside feeling stuffy thanks to the heat his own face was generating. Next system over or not, this was going to be a  _ long  _ trip.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little real in this chapter; note the tags that were added. Both child abuse and a suicide attempt are mentioned or implied in this chapter. Proceed with caution.

Din was pretty sure he was going to die.

He desperately needed to move his legs. They had cramped up some hours ago, and he had no idea how much longer it was going to be before the ship landed. He did not  _ dare  _ try to move before the coast was clear; literally any movement he made was going to make this situation a thousand times more awkward than it already was. At least the Jedi had relaxed a little, though not much — he could still feel his heart pounding against his chest, and his calf muscles still felt tight around his leg. Eventually, he nestled his head a little to the side, allowing Din to rest his own at a more comfortable angle, though it did absolutely  _ nothing  _ to help the stuffiness in his helmet.

Eventually, he felt the tug of the ship coming out of hyperspace, and he felt the Jedi tense again, probably worried about what the landing was going to be like, considering take off put them in this mess. Din swallowed hard, before tightening his arms around Luke, holding him close against his chest. The Jedi let out a shuddering breath and he could feel him tremble against his arms, though he ended up pressing himself a little closer.

The expected  _ jerk _ came when they (probably) broke the atmosphere, and again when it at least felt like they were going to land. The jostling continued for far longer than Din was comfortable with, and he felt Luke bury his face against his shoulder.

The ship finally landed with an uncomfortable  _ thunk,  _ the impact strong enough to dislodge just about everything in the cargo hold, as well as force his leg to jab right up against Luke. A strangled noise escaped from the Jedi’s mouth, and Din knew exactly what a moan sounded like when you were  _ desperately  _ trying not to let it out.

He was pretty sure the heat in his helmet was equivalent to Tatooine right about now.

They could hear the troops and officers heading out of the shuttle, the stuffy voice from before complaining about the rough landing. Silence filled the ship, and Luke shifted slightly, like he was listening for something.

“I don’t sense anyone in the area,” he breathed out, moving to lift his hand up, only to let out a grunt as he found he could not move.

“Ah… Din?” he whispered, and it took Din a moment to realize his arms were still locked around him. He immediately loosened them, allowing Luke to slip an arm up and reach toward the boxes above them. They floated up, gently gliding out of the way and giving the Jedi the opportunity to stand. He got to his feet quickly, turning away from Din and pulling his cloak tightly around himself. He started forward, the boxes moving themselves out of his way, and Din did not  _ dare  _ to move until the Jedi was a comfortable distance away, never mind how cramped up his legs were.

When he finally did move, it was slowly; his knees felt like a rusty hinge that had been forced open after years of disuse. He favored them carefully, pacing in his little space for a moment and giving the Jedi whatever time he needed to pull himself together, before following him out of the cargo hold. By the time he caught up with him, he seemed well enough, though when he glanced back at him, he did not quite meet his eyes like he usually did. He nodded to him briefly, before slipping out of the ship, Din being sure to stay close so he did not lose sight of him like he did on Jakku.

They walked out into cool night air onto a modestly sized landing pad. Various shuttles dotted the area, and the brilliantly bright moon overhead made it easy to see that there was no security to speak of, nor was there a hint of white armor or drab grey uniforms in sight. Beyond the platform were rolling green hills stretching out to a forest near the horizon, and behind them were tall spires marking what had to be some kind of base, possibly built into the hills around them, if the elevator rigging was any indication.

It was entirely too quiet, and it was putting Din ill at ease. He found himself hovering close to the Jedi, somewhere between protective and ready to jump to attack the moment something went wrong. Everything remained unnervingly quiet as they slipped beneath the shuttles, keeping themselves to the shadows as best they could. They did not stop until they were close to one of the spires, hiding in its shadow behind a collection of storage containers, ducking down to keep from immediate view of both the elevator and the landing pad they just traversed.

“Do you still have the fob on you?” Luke whispered softly, carefully keeping his voice low, and still quite deliberately not meeting Din’s eyes, even though he knew he was capable of doing so even with his helmet on.

He did not comment on his behavior, no matter how much he wanted to remind him that their earlier situation was  _ not  _ his fault. Instead, he reached into one of the pouches on his belt, pulling out the fob and flicking it on, only to see it going nuts; the light was blinking rapidly, a steady hum coming from it.

“He’s  _ very  _ close,” he muttered, looking around like he half expected Hux to be right behind them. In the next moment, the Jedi suddenly grabbed him and pushed him down, covering him with his body as best he could, being shorter and slighter than he was. Any protest he had was cut short at the sound of a ship coming in, and he glanced up to see Luke flip his hood up, careful to mask any source of color or shine of beskar from anyone in the cockpit of the incoming shuttle.

He did not move until they heard the ship’s engines quiet, and the two of them huddled close as they peered over the top of the boxes, watching the ramp of the  _ Lambda  _ that just landed open up. A small escort of stormtroopers exited first, followed by the portly Hux. He was talking animatedly with an officer at his side, so distracting that Din almost missed the young boy behind him. He was spindly and unhealthily thin, with a shock of red hair on his head, easy to see as he kept it bowed down as he walked, eyes on the ground. He was carrying a stack of datapads, and seemed extraordinarily tired, drifting away from Hux slightly. The boy’s foot caught on a crack in the duracrete, and while he managed to keep his balance, the datapads he had been holding tumbled to the ground.

Almost immediately, Hux was on the boy, and while they were too far away to hear what was being said, the overreacting  _ rage  _ on his face was clear. In the next moment, his hand came up, and the boy made no effort to protect himself at the backhand that struck him soundly across his face. A sudden chill in the air bloomed to life around Din, and he was not sure if it was that which made him turn toward Luke, or the fact that he was clearly  _ seconds  _ away from leaping over their hiding place. His hands snapped out, grabbing the Jedi and pulling him back, only to have a fierce  _ glare  _ focused on him. Din leaned away from him, caught off guard by the severity of the anger on his face, and it seemed his reaction was enough to pull Luke out of it. An apologetic look came to his eyes, before they turned their attention back to see Hux and the other officer had continued without the boy, leaving him to collect the datapads and rushing to rejoin them before the elevator descended without him.

Silence fell over the landing pad again, broken only when Luke let out a shaking breath, his shoulders sagging as the Jedi calm came to his face. Din watched him silently, like Luke was going through some ritual and it was important for him to stay quiet. That look on his face before… he did not think someone as calm and caring as Luke was capable of that kind of anger, almost like he was another person for a split second. It was a moment before Din finally pulled his eyes away, reaching into his pouch for the puck and activating it, bringing up the information Cara provided him. He saw Luke’s gaze finally shift over to him, tilting his head curiously.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking to see if he’s wanted dead or alive.”

He did not need to be looking at Luke to see the faint smile that came to his face. The Jedi rested a hand on his shoulder, before standing, peering at the elevator and the spires, frowning to himself. He reached out a hand toward the empty space between two of the spires, pausing like he had hit some invisible barrier.

“There’s heat here,” he murmured softly. “I think they’re using some kind of cloaking technology to hide their base.”

“Can’t be that big,” Din replied, putting the puck and fob away before standing and striding over to join him. “This landing pad is barely big enough to support a small base.”

Luke nodded faintly in agreement, though he still looked troubled. His gaze turned up to the top of the spire nearest them, biting his lip.

“Think we can get up there without drawing attention?” he asked, and Din followed his gaze up. Getting up there was not an issue — it was only a few stories at the most — it was the  _ noise  _ they would make in the process. He took one last look around, still not seeing any signs of guards or sensor equipment; did they not expect anyone to be able to find them out here? That was a poor excuse to have such shoddy security, but he was not about to complain.

“Worth a shot,” he said, hesitating a moment, before awkwardly offering Luke to come closer to him. The Jedi paused, a faint bit of color coming to his face, before he hurried to grab onto Din, like he was afraid he would lose his nerve. His jetpack was activated in the next moment, blasting them up into the air and along the length of the spire.

They set down onto the flat top of the spire, though if Luke had not been holding onto him tight, he may well have dropped him. The Jedi looked up at him, alarmed, before twisting around in his arms to get a good look.

The landing pad was  _ hardly  _ a good reference for the sheer  _ size  _ of the base, spreading out so far that they lost sight of it as it buried itself into the surrounding hills — which were much farther away than the cloaking screen made it look. Immediately below them were massive racks of TIE fighters, enough for at least five squadrons worth, if not more. Several buildings dotted the area, and the number of white armored troops was enough to cause a sinking feeling in the pit of Din’s stomach.

“We’re… going to need help,” Luke murmured, and Din let out a sigh, wishing he had just dealt with the Hutt first. At least then he would have his ship.

“Yep. We’re going to need help.”

~.oOOo.~

They were able to steal some long range communication equipment and a handful of survival gear from the boxes that dotted the landing pad, before retreating as quickly as they could into the distant woods. They were not able to grab much — mostly a heater and a handful of cooking supplies — but Luke was amazingly capable of making up for what they lacked. His survival skills were better than Din would have expected from a… prince? He still was not sure  _ what  _ Luke was outside of being a Jedi, and he was not exactly volunteering the information either. In fact, after Din made his call out for the people he knew would be crazy enough to break into an Imperial stronghold, they barely said more than a few words a day to each other.

It was not long before Din got frustrated, but he could not think of a way to broach the subject. Just losing his composure and demanding he talk to him would not do him any favors, but continuing as they were would be just as dangerous. It was why, on the third night after they set up camp to wait for help to arrive, Din finally dared to say something, quietly observing Luke for a long moment as the Jedi ate some wild game he had hunted before, trying to gauge his mood before plowing straight into it:

“You know none of that was on purpose, right?”

Luke damn near choked at the sudden statement, coughing a moment. He kept his hand over his mouth as he stuttered to a stop, staring at Din with wide eyes.

“What?” he croaked out, and Din tried not to seem impatient as he answered.

“Before, on the shuttle,” he explained. “If we could have moved off each other without making noise, I would’ve done so.”

Luke stared at him as his hand dropped, mouth moving but no sound coming out. He finally deflated with a sigh, giving him an apologetic look.

“It’s… that’s not what’s bothering me,” he confessed, clutching tightly at his plate. He looked like he was going to try to continue several times, aborting each attempt, before he finally let out a defeated sigh. “It’s complicated.”

Din had a feeling  _ everything  _ about Luke was complicated, but he was not sure how much actually  _ was  _ complicated, or made so because he could not do anything the easy way.

“Isn’t it always?” he replied, tilting his head in silent encouragement to keep going. Luke stared at him for a long moment, another defeated sigh escaping from him as his shoulders slumped.

“There is  _ so  _ much even I don’t understand about being a Jedi,” he confessed. “The Empire did a thorough job of wiping any trace of them from the galaxy, and my own training was… rushed, out of necessity. I’m trying to pull together what I can, but… there’s just so little left.”

He bowed his head, and Din could almost feel his frustration. He took a deep breath, as if to ground himself, before continuing.

“One thing that seemed to remain consistent in what I’ve found, is that a Jedi should never form attachments. That the emotions involved are the path to darkness, that… Jedi have fallen into such a trap in the past, and come out changed, and not for the better.”

Din found himself staring at that. This was the second time Luke had mentioned some kind of darkness, and he did not understand what that was supposed to be. He was starting to think just about anything Force and Jedi related was just going to fly over his head no matter how well Luke explained it.

He lifted his head to peer up at Din, a desperate need to understand his own religion on his face.

“It’s… hard for me to accept that,” he continued softly. “I… have strong feelings when it comes to my friends and family. I feel like I thrive on the connections I make with others, yet… I have first hand experience on how badly that kind of affection can go.”

He hesitated, his gaze turning away from Din, like he was afraid to look at him again.

“When you… touched me, the other night,” he began, his voice so soft he could barely hear him, a hand reaching up to absently trace one of the scars hidden under his sleeve. “I…  _ felt  _ things I hadn’t before, at least… not like that. Not  _ that  _ strongly. And then on the ship, I just…”

Luke hesitated, trying to find the words for how he felt, while Din’s head felt like it was swimming in his helmet. Did he just give his kid’s teacher a crisis of faith? Just over a moment of weakness? He let out a frustrated noise, wanting to kick himself; if he had to go on a wild goose chase  _ again  _ because he could not keep his hands to himself like some horny teenager and broke Grogu’s teacher, he might very well scream.

At the same time… he did not exactly  _ regret  _ touching Luke, nor did he regret how they had been stuck together on the ship (embarrassed by it, yes, but he did not regret it). He was not exactly playing fair with Luke, and neither was he at the moment, and Din could not turn away from him as he bit at his lower lip, his eyes distant as he tried to think.

Before he could remind himself that this was  _ most definitely  _ a bad idea, he found himself reaching out, placing a hand on his shoulder, his thumb settling on his neck. The Jedi’s gaze immediately snapped up, once again meeting Din’s eyes through his helmet.

“Let me ask you this,” he began softly, his thumb absently rubbing small circles on his neck. “Does the love you have for others make you feel like any less of a Jedi?”

It was not quite the same question he had given him back in that cart, and his creed was certainly  _ very  _ different from a Jedi’s. His words still had the desired effect, however, drawing a shuddering gasp out of Luke, lips parting slightly, distractingly, and Din found his gaze being torn down to them. He found his hand trailing up, fingers lightly brushing along his neck as his thumb settled on those soft lips. Luke’s gaze had not diverted from him, so Din got a good look as his lids fell slightly, darkening the blue of his eyes the same color as the dark of twilight. That was the only warning Din got before his lips moved, his thumb slipping into his mouth and allowing him to bite into the leather of his glove, the look in his eyes all but saying aloud that he was going to rip it off if Din did not stop.

He felt something coil in the pit of his stomach when he realized how much he wanted to see that happen. For a moment, the Imps behind them or the help coming was a distant memory, the urge to grab Luke and pull him onto his lap overtaking his mind, his other hand reaching for him…

And suddenly Luke pulled away, the moment abruptly ruined. Din was afraid he screwed up again, that he went too far and he was going to have to apologize profusely, but Luke’s gaze was not even on him. Instead, it was focused on the sky, a look like he had just seen a ghost on his face.

“What’s  _ Slave-One  _ doing here…?” he whispered, something like fear in his voice. Din turned, just catching sight of the rounded dome of  _ Slave 1 _ ’s viewport before it disappeared into the trees, and he let out a sigh. Perfect timing.

“Looks like our help’s here,” he said, standing up and turning to help Luke do the same, only to be taken aback by the betrayed look on his face. “What?”

Luke did not say a word, nor did he take his offered hand up, standing on his own and ignoring Din completely as he went to collect his cloak. The Jedi mask was firmly locked in place once he swept it on, hood up, his hands clasped together in front of him, left over right, and his eyes fixed at a point within the trees. Din could only stare at him, clueless as to what was going on, when he heard movement through the trees, catching sight of familiar green armor a moment later.

The two of them were deliberately making noise so as not to alarm them, and while Boba Fett succeeded, Din was pretty sure Fennec Shand would not have been able to be deliberately noisy even if she was carrying a fire crackler.

“Mando,” Fett greeted, a smile in his voice despite the modulation of his helmet. “Heard you accidentally became ruler of all Mandalor. Aren’t you the unlucky moof milker.”

Din had to bite back a groan, shaking his head. “I’ve already had two challengers confront me, one of which was a chieftain.”

“Surprised you didn’t intentionally lose,” Fennec replied, a faint hint of a smirk coming to her face, clearly amused by his plight.

“Not how it works,” Fett explained. “He has to give it his all, or the fight is invalid, and taken as an insult. Mandalorians have  _ pride  _ like that.”

He let out a scoff, before he glanced away from Din, as if noticing the dark monolith the Jedi had become for the first time. Fett actually took a step  _ back,  _ and for a moment, Din dared to think he might have been afraid, before he saw him tilt his head curiously.

“...Skywalker?”

“Fett,” the Jedi returned, a stiff coolness in his voice that even had Fennec taking a step back. Din looked between the two of them, confused. Wait, his last name was Skywalker? Not Organa? How did that work? And why did that name sound familiar?

“You two know each other?” he managed to get out, picking the question out from all the others thumping against the back of his skull. He could tell without seeing his face that Fett’s eyes were glued to the Jedi, even as he addressed him.

“He had relatives in high places,” he explained. “Imperial relatives that wanted him dragged away from the Rebellion.”

The Jedi mask did not drop, but there was a strange look in Luke’s eyes, almost as if Fett’s words had suddenly made him extremely vulnerable.

“You knew?” he asked softly. Fett’s posture finally eased at the question, like the tension between the two of them suddenly snapped.

“Wasn’t hard to figure it out. I’m sure you know he wasn’t a subtle man,” he said, before pausing, almost like he was hesitating. When Fett spoke again, his voice was softer, and Din almost swore he could hear sympathy mixed in. “Is it appropriate to offer condolences?”

The Jedi remained stiff and cold for a brief moment, before he reached up, and Luke was back once he pushed his hood down. That vulnerability was still there, along with a haunted sadness, not unlike what he had shown Din at Jakku. He felt his hand twitch, the same lurching feeling when Grogu was upset hitting him in the chest.

“Yes,” Luke answered softly. “Thank you.”

Fett nodded, before he reached up, removing his helmet. Luke watched him intently, and Din wondered if he realized how much of a show of trust and faith it was, even though the other Mandalorian did not follow the same creed he did — or any creed, as far as he knew. He inclined his head in acknowledgment, before retaking his seat by the stolen heater, Fennec sliding down next to him as Fett and Din settled on the other side.

“So,” Luke began, “let’s talk about this pseudo-Imperial installation.”

He launched right into an explanation of what they had seen atop that spire. Through the discussion, he eventually grabbed up a stick, starting to etch out building placement and troop movement in the dirt, detailing things Din had not even seen and using past experience to fill in the gaps.

“The main command center is likely under here,” he said, pointing to where the base disappeared under the hills, “using the land as cover, as well as likely being reinforced with duracrete or stronger. If they’re still following standard Imperial layouts, the barracks are here and here, with munitions here, and the heavier stuff here.”

He pointed to each of the buildings in turn as he spoke. Fennec and Fett were listening intently, but Din kept getting distracted by the authority and experience that was coming out of Luke’s mouth, especially as he launched into patrol routes and expected troop placement. He knew he had been in the Rebellion, had seen the kill counter on his X-wing,  _ and  _ how he fought, yet still his grasp of military operations threw him for a loop.

“I think, given Hux’s presence here, this is primarily a training facility,” Luke continued. “We… we are  _ going  _ to find children here, some of whom may already have been brainwashed by… his training methods.”

Luke looked like he swallowed a bug, clearly remembering the child they were forced to watch being smacked for an accident. Fett did not look very pleased either, his hard face chiseled into a scowl.

“Then we’ll have to be sure to give this Hux his just reward for his hard work,” he stated coldly, before his face twitched up into a faint smirk. “What’s the plan,  _ Commander?” _

Commander? What?  _ Him?  _ Was Fett serious, or was that a tease hidden in his voice? Luke lifting his head, amusement sparking in his eyes, did  _ nothing  _ to ease Din’s confusion.

“General, actually,” Luke corrected. “High Command insisted I be promoted once I became a Knight. I’m retired now, regardless.”

“General?”

Din did not realize he had said that out loud until he felt Fett’s eyes drilling a hole in his helmet. He turned to him, tilting his head in confusion. He could not really blame him for not realizing he had been a  _ general,  _ right? Luke was barely old enough to be one  _ now,  _ let alone during the last war.

“You gave your kid away  _ and  _ started travelling with someone, and you don’t even know who he is, do you?” Fett asked, not giving Din the chance to answer before he turned his attention to Luke. “And you didn’t bother to tell him?”

Din had to take some consolation in the fact that Fennec did not seem to know what the big deal was either. He would have commented on it if he was not distracted by Luke hunching his shoulders, looking at Fett like he was a child being reprimanded by a parent.

“Honestly?” he asked sheepishly. “I’m so used to being recognized on sight, I forget to introduce myself.”

Fett let out a sigh, and he swore he caught him muttering, “Like father, like son,” under his breath, before he finally turned to Din.

“You’ve been travelling with the man that destroyed the first Death Star.”

...oh.

_ Oh. _

Din’s eyes widened under the helmet, his mind immediately going to that kill counter on Luke’s X-wing. He thought the circle was just denoting where the kill count started; he never thought it would be  _ part of  _ the count. His mouth dropped open, about to stammer out something, but he paused as he focused on Luke. He could see that same haunted look in his eyes, the same one he had the night he touched his scars, and Din found himself pulling back a moment, thinking on what he just learned. If Luke was twenty-eight now, and Yavin was nine years ago, then…

...then he had been  _ nineteen  _ when he killed over a million people at once.

_ Dank ferrik. _

“Well, lets focus on now,” he said instead, and he saw Luke peer up at him, gratitude coming to his eyes as he continued, “Hux’s bounty is dead or alive. I know the Republic prefers alive, but I don’t think anyone will be sad to see him go.”

“Probably not,” Fennec agreed, “but if he’s like every other Imperial scum sucker, he’s going to turn tail and run the moment he realizes someone’s after him.”

“Then we cut off his escape route,” Luke picked up, shuffling to peer over his map again. “I can create a distraction; go right through their front door.”

“That’s too dangerous, even for you,” Fett objected. Din glanced over at him, then to Fennec as if to check if she had told him how they first met, before leaning toward Fett slightly.

“He took out an entire battalion of Dark Troopers on his own.”

Fett’s head snapped toward him, as if trying to see if he was lying or not. He finally let out a breath through his nose, turning his attention back to all of them.

“Skywalker’s the distraction,” he acquiesced. “Mando and I will slip in; I’ll keep the exits secure, while he takes the target. Shand will cover all of us.”

Nods went all around, and Din pulled the fob from his pouch, flicking it on to see it was still beeping steadily.

“We go tonight.”

~.oOOo.~

Din felt like a bundle of twisted nerves spun around the point of a gaffi stick. He should not be worried and he knew it; him and Boba Fett alone would have been more than enough to take this place. With Fennec covering them and Luke providing distraction, it was going to be laughably easy.

So why did he have a bad feeling about this?

He hunched low on the top of the spire he was perched on, glancing to either side of him. He could see Fett easily enough, but even though he knew which spire they had left Fennec on, he could not see her at all. He really needed to know how she did that.

He saw the elevator lights start to flicker on below, and he knew it was only a matter of time before the carnage began. His eyes never left the elevator as he jammed the anchor for his tow line into the spire, a sudden sick feeling in his stomach. Now that he knew just  _ who  _ Luke was, the fact they were making him kill again — that he volunteered for it — felt wrong. He had already done more than enough of it at such a young age, more than any Mandalorian in history, no doubt. Admirable warrior or not, was it really right to keep expecting it of him, especially when he was so clearly affected by it?

...why the kark was it bothering him  _ this  _ much?

He could see the elevator doors open, could hear the stormtroopers guarding it let out surprised noises in his head as they raised their blasters. In the next moment those blasters fell to the ground, hands clawing at necks like some invisible force had them by the throat. The troopers went flying through the air the next moment, one hitting a building with a sickening  _ crack  _ Din could hear (definitely dead), while the other slammed into a platoon of troopers running to assist, knocking several over in the process (possibly dead). Those that stayed standing were firing the next moment, red blasts cutting through the air as a green light sprang to life in the elevator.

Din wanted to watch, wanted to see Luke casually stroll out as he reflected blaster fire back on one (dead) and another (dead) and another (dead), but he had a job to do. Fett was already rappelling down, and Din started a moment after, scaling down the full length of the spire. Once his feet touched the ground, his cord was disengaged and he was off running, keeping to the shadows as he trailed behind the other Mandalorian, running all the way to where the base disappeared into the surrounding hills. So far, everything was just as Luke predicted it would be… until they got under the ground. Fett stopped  _ dead  _ in front of him, forcing Din to do the same, a protest on his lips that died as soon as he saw the reason for the sudden stop.

There were no drab grey buildings like the rest of the base; instead tall spires of the deepest black stretched up before them. Red light poured out of every window, making the structure look like some ancient demonic cathedral out of a children’s bedtime story. Sound felt like it died in the presence of this place, except for what he swore were distant screams from who knew where, and Din got the unsettling feeling they belonged to kids being tortured into obedience.

“I don’t think this is to regulation,” Fett grumbled, and Din just shook his head. He did not understand what Luke meant by “a darkness” before, but he did after seeing this place.

“New plan,” he began. “You find the kids instead.”

Fett snapped his covered face over to him, like he was judging him silently.

“What if Hux runs?”

“If he runs, I’ll track him down again with more people,” he replied. “Those kids are more important. No one should be stuck in this place.”

Din flicked his eyes toward him, his helmet barely moving. Fett had to understand, even without being a “proper” Mandalorian by Bo-Katan’s rigid standards; children were the future of any tribe.

He nodded in approval after a moment, before turning and squatting low. A guiding laser slipped out of a pouch in the next moment, shining it on one of the guards that surrounded the entrance to the place. He was dead before he even realized it was there, Fennec’s shot dropping him from  _ miles  _ away, and his partner followed soon after without Fett needing to highlight the target.

They were kicking open the doors the next moment, blasters immediately up and shooting the stormtroopers on the other side. Bolts of energy pinged harmlessly off their armor as the troopers tried to keep them back, their efforts quickly proving to be in vain as the last one dropped dead. Eventually, they split off down hellishly black corridors, leaving the bodies of more dead troopers in their wake, of former kids that had been forced into this life. The more Din thought about it, the more he felt his skin crawl, and his trigger finger itched, desperately wanting to put a hole in Hux’s head and keep firing until there was nothing but paste left.

He took the fob out, flicking it on when he was certain there would be no one around to hear it, following the steadily growing beeps to where his target was. The halls were unsettlingly quiet, until he turned a corner and saw a lone trooper standing at attention outside a door. That was very likely where he needed to be, and Din quietly traded his blaster for the beskar spear, taking several deep breaths as he hefted the weapon.

Well. Now or never.

He  _ threw  _ the spear with all he had, impaling the trooper through the neck, the weapon coming out the other side for a few inches before it stopped. Din rushed up to grab the spear before it and the corpse dropping made noise, lowering the body gently to the ground before pulling the spear out.

“Trooper?” a voice called from inside. “How much longer is this infernal lockdown going to take? I have work to do!”

Din was annoyed by what the guy did for a living, but hearing his voice grated on his ears. He swung the spear back behind him, pulling his blaster and, after a moment of hesitation, the Darksaber. His blaster came up, the saber flipped so the blade would come out along the length of his arm when activated, as the door opened, like Hux had gotten tired of waiting for an answer and triggered the door release remotely. He was in uniform as Din had last seen him, only he had removed his cap, showing wisps of greying red hair. The office around him was obnoxiously rich looking, with what appeared to be a wampa fur rug laid out before a desk that seemed to be carved from a solid block of marble, the white standing out against the stark black walls. Hux damn near jumped out of his skin as Din slid into the room before the door could close on him, blaster trained right on him.

“Who the hell are you!?” he demanded, shooting up from his seat once he got over his surprise, backing toward the far wall to put as much distance between them as he could. When Din did not answer, he narrowed his eyes, frowning. “Wait, you’re that bounty hunter from Chandrila, aren’t you?”

He paused a moment, his eyes flicking down to the dent in his chest piece. A sneer came to his face then, beady green eyes snapping back up to him.

“Impressive that pure beskar is able to withstand that kind of blast,” he continued, a mocking tone coming to his voice. “I will have to inform our weapons engineers that their work was a failure.”

“Someone else is going to have to do that,” Din finally spoke, edging closer, blaster pointed directly at his heart. “Normally I’d give you the choice to come in warm, but I think I rather bring you in cold.”

Hux scoffed. “You bounty hunters are all the same: all bravado, no  _ brains.” _

His fingers suddenly sunk against the wall, and Din realized too late that there was a hidden switch there. A portion of the wall suddenly started to spin around, and while he got a shot off at him, it was not anywhere close to hitting Hux before the wall completed its spin, locking into place. He cursed under his breath, going over to feel around the wall, but his side did not seem to have a switch. His foot snapped out, kicking it in frustration, and an extra snap to the wall just because he made such a damn rookie mistake. Hurrying back to the door, he pressed the release button, expecting it to open, hoping he would be able to find him before the bastard could escape.

Except the door did not open.

Din frowned, trying the button again, only to get the same result. He was about to head over to the desk, when he picked up a faint hissing noise, and looking up, he could see a faint, purplish mist slowly seeping from the vents.

“You have got to be kidding…” he muttered under his breath. He would be okay for a bit; the filtration in his helmet was not much, but it was enough to get him out of a situation like this.

Din continued to the desk, poking at whatever buttons he could find. They all seemed non-functional, like power had been cut from the room once Hux escaped. He was about to head back for the door to maybe try his luck hotwiring it open, when he heard the faint sound of someone coughing. A frown came to his face as he looked around the room, finally laying eyes on a nondescript door that he would have completely missed if he was not looking for it.

Opening the door revealed a tiny room, more like a jail cell than a bedroom. The only furniture was a bed and a small rack with two of the same drab, grey uniform on it. On the bed, the kid he had seen before was curled up into a ball, coughing fitfully and looking like he did not have the willpower to try and save himself.

Din swore under his breath. He supposed he should not have been surprised Hux would leave the kid here to die, given how he was treated on the landing platform, but it pissed him off all the same.

He hurried to the bed, scooping the kid up and rushing out of the small room, setting him on the floor of the office. There was no time to play with electronics now; he was going to have to blow open the door to get them out, and quickly.

“Why…?”

Din’s head snapped down to the kid, now looking up at him with… with bright green eyes, one half hidden by a bruise that extended from the side of his face, likely from the smack he had endured previously. That, and the bright red hair…

Was… was this Hux’s  _ kid?! _

“No one deserves to be abandoned, kid,” he answered. The kid gave him an uncomprehending look, before dissolving into another coughing fit, and Din felt his gut twist. That had been a small room; who knew how fast the gas had filled it, and how much of it the kid willingly breathed in. He hesitated a moment, knowing what he needed to do to help him, but part of him was absolutely terrified about doing it.

“I’m going to give you my helmet,” he explained. “It’s not going to seal all the way, but it should still give you some protection, okay?”

The kid nodded, and Din reached up, desperately ignoring the knot in his gut over yet another person seeing his face as he pulled his helmet off. He dropped it over the kid’s head in the next moment, making sure it was as secure as it could be, before tucking him behind the marble desk.

Din flinched as he came back up, the sharp smell of the gas immediately stinging his nose. He ducked low to avoid it as much as he could, damn near crab walking toward the door. The only thing he had on him was his blaster, and while it would not be as effective as a normal explosive, overloading the battery pack  _ should  _ provide enough of a punch to break down the wall.

He hoped.

Also, he hoped the gas was not combustible.

Working quickly, ignoring his fingers shaking, he forced the energy cells in the pack into overload, wedging the blaster against the door, before  _ running  _ for the desk. Din ducked behind it immediately, wrapping his arms protectively around the kid just as the blaster exploded. A grunt escaped from him as he heard shrapnel hit the desk, hazarding a glance up to see there was no indication a door had even been there.

Immediately, Din scooped the kid up, bolting out of the room and down the hallway as fast as his legs could carry him. He stumbled to a stop once he made it back to the hallway junction, managing to set the kid on the floor before slumping down himself, gasping in clean air.

A moment passed before the kid reached up, pulling off the helmet and staring at the front of it, before handing it back to Din. He took it, but did not put it back on right away, letting the filters inside cycle themselves first.

“Are… you going to hold me hostage?” the kid asked, and Din glanced at him. That was definitely bright red hair on his head, same as Hux, same  _ shade  _ even. The eyes were the same color too, and he suspected his skin would have been just as pale if he was not bruised. Now that he could get a better look, that bruise was a lot darker than it seemed at first, making him wonder if there was another bruise fresh from today mixed in.

“Kid, from what I see, I don’t think he’d pay for you back,” Din replied honestly, making the kid flinch. He sulked as he looked away from him, looking afraid to meet his gaze.

“Of course he would,” the kid replied, his voice shaking. “He’s put a lot of effort into educating me. He wouldn’t want to lose such an investment.”

Din watched him, his heart aching for this kid. He was definitely older than Ben, but he was not sure how much older. Still, he was too young to endure something like this.

“That,” he began, motioning to the bruise on his face, “is torture, not education. You look smart enough to realize that.”

The kid stayed turned away from him, but he could see his shoulders shuddering, like he had learned long ago how to disguise when he was crying, and it was taking every bit of his willpower to manage it. He waited to see if he would say anything more, let him try and get whatever objections he wanted to get out, but he did not say anything.

“I’m Din Djarin,” he introduced himself, keeping his voice soft for the kid. He finally turned to him then, and while his face looked clean, he could still see the shine of tears in his eyes.

“Armitage Hux.”

Din nodded, a small smile coming to his face.

“I want to get you out of here, Armitage. Are you okay with that?”

Armitage hesitated, for a moment looking terrified, and considering the abuse the kid had clearly suffered, he was not sure if it was the idea of leaving that scared him, or what his father might do to him if he was caught. It was a long moment before he dared to indicate it was okay, and even then, he only nodded, clearly not trusting his voice.

“All right,” Din replied, finally slipping his helmet on, and letting out a shuddering breath. Worrying over Armitage had kept him from focusing on his face being exposed, but now that his helmet was back on, he could not help but feel  _ relief. _

He climbed up to his feet first, reaching down with both hands to help the kid up. The moment Armitage had both feet planted on the ground, the temperature in the hallway suddenly dipped, sending a shiver through him. Din looked around, wondering if the environmentals in the building had been tampered with, when he suddenly felt Armitage cling to his waist. His head snapped down, seeing the look of absolute terror on the boy’s face, focused on a point down the hall. Din followed his gaze, squinting into the darkness, finally spotting a darkly cloaked figure standing there.

“It’s one of  _ them…”  _ Armitage whimpered, and Din was about to ask who, when the familiar  _ hiss _ of a lightsaber activating reached his ears, and the hallway was bathed in a brilliant blood red.


	6. Chapter 6

Din felt Armitage clinging tighter to him as the dark figure down the hallway silently approached them, the only sound the hum of their lightsaber as they moved and the boy’s ragged, terrified breathing. He stepped back, keeping a protective hand on Armitage’s back as he went, the child pressed close to his side. Luke’s words from earlier haunted his mind as he moved away, about Jedi falling victim to their emotions and emerging changed. Just the chill in the air was enough to tell him this was the case with whomever this was.

And if this was a Jedi? Even a former Jedi? There was no way they were going to be able to run away.

“Armitage,” he began, somehow managing to keep his voice low and calm, “I know you’re scared, but I need you to let go and hide.”

The kid’s head snapped up to him, fear clear in his eyes.

“You… you’re going to fight it?” he squeaked out. “You  _ can’t  _ fight it! That thing will kill you!”

“I’ll be okay,” Din assured him, trying to sound like he was actually confident. “I’ve watched a Jedi fight before. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

He could feel the doubt wafting off of Armitage, but the kid still let go of him, running down the hall and hiding in a nearby alcove. Din nodded to himself, wishing he had a better spot to hide, but the only other place in the area was the poison filled room. He was just going to have to make sure the Jedi did not get past him; no problem, right?

Right?

Din swung his beskar spear off his back, settling into a defensive stance and  _ praying  _ he was not about to make a colossal mistake. The Jedi was barreling toward him once they saw he was ready for a fight, red blade sizzling through the air as it swung toward him. The lightsaber hit hard against the spear, the beskar burning red as the Jedi tilted their head, confused that their blade was not cutting through. This close, Din could see they were covered in black from head to toe, and even the face had a solid black mask pulled over it. To a kid, they must have looked like a monster; no wonder Armitage spoke of them like they were an object.

The Jedi must have realized Din was going to give them a proper fight; they snapped away from him, prowling around, as if gauging his defense. They struck out again a split second later, so fast that he almost did not see the blade move. The hiss of beskar resisting plasma filled the air again, the spear growing hot with each successful strike against it. Din did not think the weapon would suffer the same catastrophic failure as Chieftain Beroya’s sword had, but if this kept up, he was fairly sure he was not going to be able to hold onto it anymore.

He swung the spear around in a wide arc with one hand, forcing the Jedi to back off or get smacked, only to limit their options further as he pulled the Darksaber, herding them toward the spear’s shaft. The metal cracked soundly against their skull, forcing them to stumble away, and Din stabbed the spear into the floor, leaving it there as he pressed his advantage. The Darksaber hummed through the air, cutting through the light around it as it clashed loudly against the red blade.

His headway lasted a very short time, and he realized very quickly how much of a mistake switching weapons was. Din still had not had a chance to properly train with the Darksaber, and while his chances of being burned by it were less than the overheated spear, he was going up against an opponent with far more experience than he possessed. They attacked viciously,  _ savagely;  _ the red blade became a humming whirlwind of energy, knocking him away again and again. The Jedi herded him into changing positions, forcing him down the hall and away from the spear and leaving Din struggling desperately to regain some ground.

They refused to let up on him, and a particularly violent hit sent him tumbling toward the ground, but he did not land. An invisible hand held him in place, midway to falling,  _ squeezing  _ his throat. Din gagged, remembering seeing Luke do the same to the stormtroopers outside. This Jedi did not send him flying though; instead that invisible hand squeezed harder, choking the air out of his lungs. Dark spots started to appear in his vision, and Din tried to kick his legs out, desperately trying to break their concentration as his ears started ringing—

And then there was the sound of metal hitting flesh, and Din was released, dropping unceremoniously to the floor.

He laid there for a moment, nearly ripping his helmet off so he could better gasp in lungfuls of air, before looking up. The Jedi was looming above him, twitching — death spasms, as the metal tip of the spear was sticking out where their heart was. They fell after a moment, and Din saw Armitage struggling to keep a hand on the spear, before giving up and letting it fall along with the corpse. He stood there, trumbling, staring at the body, and it took Din a few seconds to realize he was starting to slip into shock.

Before he realized he was doing it, Din’s helmet was coming off, giving Armitage a human face to look at as he scooped him up, turning him away from the body as he held him tight. It was a moment before he felt small hands clinging to him, and the telltale feeling of blood seeping into the body suit his armor attached to followed immediately after. It took him another moment to realize Armitage must have burned himself on the spear, and the burns were cracking and bleeding. He gave him one last squeeze, before pulling away, gently taking up his hands. Armitage looked confused for a moment, still swaying slightly where he stood, until he saw Din pulling a bacta spray out of one of his pouches. He tried to pull his hands away, starting to shake again.

“It’s not that bad,” he insisted, like he was more afraid of the treatment than the person he just killed. Din kept his hand on him, firm but as gentle as he could manage, keeping his eyes focused on Armitage’s face.

“Yes it is,” he said softly, telling him without so many words that it was okay to get treatment for his injuries. The kid trembled, like he did not know what to do, but he finally stilled as Din sprayed the bacta on his hands before wrapping them with medical tape. He gave his shoulder a squeeze when he was done, and Armitage shrank back slightly, like he did not know what to do in the face of so much kindness.

“Stay here, and don’t look,” he said softly, waiting for the kid to nod, before going over to the dead Jedi.

Din pulled the spear out first, flicking the blood off, before turning the body over. That bad feeling he had before all this started rose in his gut again, and there was a small voice in his head screaming  _ don’t look, don’t look!  _ He swallowed hard, before crouching down, his hand reaching out and grasping the Jedi’s mask, ripping it off before he lost his nerve.

He  _ really  _ wished he had listened to that voice.

Din stared, open mouthed, at the face that was revealed, his chest tightening in his surprise. Golden, red rimmed eyes stared sightlessly back at him, surrounded by a sunken face that looked more like a death’s head. The flesh seemed like it was decaying, clinging to the skull, part of which was caved in, like it had not fully formed. Despite the extensive damage and the wrong colored eyes, Din still  _ knew  _ that face.

He had been unconsciously memorizing it for the last few days.

~.oOOo.~

Armitage was slumped against his shoulder, emotionally and physically exhausted, as they emerged from the main command building. Sirens were going off all over the base, and he could see several TIE fighters and shuttles lifting off, abandoning the location. Din did not really care at the moment, still too shaken by what he had seen to pay a bunch of Imps much attention. Instead, he focused on putting one foot in front of the other, traversing the base grounds, changing direction only when he saw Boba Fett surrounded by a bunch of kids.

“Got him?” Fett asked once he was close, only to let out a faint curse when Din shook his head.

“It was either track him down or save his kid,” he replied. “I chose the kid.”

Armitage lifted his head slightly, peering at the other Mandalorian, the bruised side of his face pointed toward him, before he slumped back against Din’s shoulder. Fett was silent for a long moment, and it was hard to get a read on just what he was thinking.

“I can see why,” he finally replied, the seething hiss in his voice hard to miss.

Din nodded faintly, finally looking around the area. He spotted Luke some distance away, almost missing him at first, as he was on his knees with his hood pulled up. Even from the distance he was at, he could tell something was wrong, and he almost asked Fett what happened, only to immediately click his mouth shut. Black clad bodies were sprawled out on the ground around him, some still clinging to their lightsabers, as if clutching them was the last, desperate thing they could do.

Din let out a sigh. Well… at least that saved him the burden of telling him.

The crackle of a comlink turned his focus away, back to Fett as he lifted the arm that had the communicator built into his gauntlet.

“Fett,” Fennec’s voice came over the line, “I’m picking up a large energy reading. You’re going to want to get out of there.”

“Understood,” he acknowledged, before addressing the kids. “Alright, time to go.”

Fett led the assemblage toward the elevator, with Din bringing up the rear. He paused when he realized Luke was not following them, and he turned to see he had not moved, still on his knees, surrounded by the bodies he killed.

“Luke!”

He stirred then, his head tilting toward him, and Din would only be able to admit later on that he was relieved to see his eyes were blue. Luke quickly stood, hurrying to join the large group in the elevator.

They made it halfway back to their little camp before the base exploded, the hills caving in on the command building as shrapnel shot up into the sky.

~.oOOo.~

_ Slave 1  _ was not meant to be a passenger vehicle, at least not with this many passengers. Fennec was perched up over everyone on one of the chairs, keeping a careful eye on the kids sprawled out on the floor. Some were struggling against sleep, others had given up on fighting against it, slumping against each other as they dozed. Armitage was still slumped against Din’s shoulder, sleeping soundly for what was probably the first time in his life.

On his other side, Luke was hovering near his shoulder. The Jedi mask was not on, but his expression was completely blank, like he could not process what he had seen. Din tried to say something, opening and closing his mouth, before giving up. There was not anything he  _ could  _ say, so instead his hand found his, wrapping around it. He felt Luke squeeze his fingers in acknowledgement, but his expression did not change.

They returned to Jakku, to the village of Tuanul where his ship was still parked. The villagers had ensured the ship remained in good condition despite the sand, and it was not long before they were transferring the kids over, Luke carrying some of the ones that were still sleeping soundly, like Armitage against Din’s shoulder.

“Thanks for your help,” Din said, earning himself a faint smirk from Fett as he and Fennec lingered outside of  _ Slave 1,  _ watching the kids get safely tucked away.

“Anytime you want to bust some Imperial heads, call,” Fett replied, reaching over to clasp his arm.

“What about Hutts?” Din offered. “There’s a situation here we’re going to need to revisit.”

An almost predatory interest glittered in Fett’s eyes, that smirk of his creeping a little higher up on his face.

“I’ll be expecting your call,” he said, before the two of them went back into their ship.

It was not long before Din had his own up in the air, with Armitage tucked securely into one of the seats in the cockpit, and Luke in the co-pilot’s seat. He was still silent, movement almost robotic as he assisted in navigation, his hands finally falling to his lap once they entered hyperspace. Din could not stand seeing him so quiet, and he was reaching for his hand again before he could stop himself. The action seemed to be enough to jumpstart Luke’s brain that time; he let out a shuddering breath, his hand tightening around his.

“They found it,” he whispered, his voice sounding like someone was prodding at an old wound, freshly torn open. “I risked everything to go back there, to try and find it, but they must have already found it.”

Din was about to ask what he was talking about, when he noticed his gloved hand was curled up into a tight fist. Frowning to himself, he pulled Luke over to face him, reaching for that hand, and almost jerked away when he felt the hard press of metal through the glove. He wrapped his hand around it once he caught himself, forcing Luke to uncurl his fingers, feeling the metal joints wrap around his own.

“My father,” he answered his unspoken question. “He was using my friends as bait to lure me out. I wasn’t ready, I was only beginning to understand what I was capable of, but I couldn’t let them be a sacrifice.”

A shuddering breath escaped from him, like he was seeing nightmares playing out before his eyes that Din could not.

“I didn’t even know he was my father until after he cut my hand off,” he finished, sinking back into his seat as he returned to the present.

“And the Empire found your hand,” Din said softly, the, “and made use of it,” hanging unspoken in the air. Luke only nodded, looking like he was seconds away from crumbling. He tightened his grip on him, as if that was going to be enough to keep him together. “It’s not your fault, Luke.”

A shiver went through Luke when he said his name, his eyes finally meeting his.

“But it’s my responsibility,” he said softly, and Din was not sure he could argue with him. If he had a bunch of illegally made clones out there, he would definitely feel like he was the one that needed to take care of it.

“Fine,” he said, no matter how much he still wanted to argue about it. “Just promise me you’re not going to do something stupid.”

“I can’t promise that,” Luke replied almost immediately, trying to move away, but Din held onto his hands, refusing to let him go.

“Make an effort,” he said. He was already sick of seeing him hurt. He had yet to see him physically injured, but the emotional damage? The scars of old injuries? Knowing what he did? What he was capable of? He knew he only scratched the surface of all the burdens he put on himself and that was already more than enough on its own.

His blunt statement was not winning him any favor, though. Luke’s lips pressed themselves into a thin line, and he stood to leave, trying to shake his hands off. Din held onto him, pulling him toward him before he could escape. Luke stumbled, landing awkwardly against the pilot’s chair. His face immediately turned cherry red, mouth moving as he tried to object, when Din finally let go of his hands, grabbing his thighs instead and hauling him up so he was straddling him. Luke’s flesh hand slapped onto the back of the pilot’s seat to brace himself, his body tense in Din’s hands, and he swore he could hear the Jedi’s heart pounding like a drum in his chest. His hands moved when he was certain Luke was not going to bolt as soon as he let go, trailing up tightly clad thighs to his hips, his fingers slipping under the belt that held his vest together, like he was going to tear it off him.

“Din…” he breathed, and Din could hear the  _ need  _ in his voice, echoing in his ears, mimicking the need he had been trying to dismiss as other things for months now. He felt Luke’s hands shift over to his shoulders, moving toward his helmet, and as  _ terrifying  _ as the thought of someone removing it was, he realized if it was Luke… if Luke did…

A sudden, soft whimper had the two of them springing apart from each other, Luke near flopping against the co-pilot’s seat. Din turned in time to see Armitage stirring, rubbing drowsily at his face, before blinking his eyes open. He looked between Din then Luke, focusing back on Din again as he reached a hand out, resting it on the chair’s arm.

“Where are we?” Armitage asked.

“My ship,” Din answered. “We’re heading back to Chandrila.”

Armitage went from sleepy to immediately alert, sinking back in his chair as terror etched itself onto his face.

“You’re taking me to be executed, aren’t you?”

Din jerked his hand back at that, too shocked that Armitage would jump to that conclusion to even think of a response. Fortunately, Luke was there to back him up, a gentle look on his face.

“We would never do such a thing,” he said, and the kid’s eyes snapped to him, narrowing as if sizing Luke up.

“You’re Luke Skywalker, aren’t you?”

A sheepish smile came to Luke’s face, and his gaze flicked briefly to Din, as if to say, “See?”

“I am,” he answered, though it did nothing to ease Armitage’s fear. He was at least making an attempt at bravery when it came to Luke, forcing himself to sit up straighter.

“Grand Admiral Sloane says you’re an evil wizard that murdered Darth Vader and the Emperor.”

Luke sunk back in his seat a bit, the look on his face somewhere between embarrassed and annoyed, though neither emotion was aimed at the kid.

“Amazing,” he finally muttered, “every word of that statement was completely wrong.”

Armitage’s bravery crumbled a little, though so did his fear, a bit of confusion replacing it as he tried to piece together what he knew to be true versus what Luke just said. Din nudged the Jedi softly, silently chiding him for the sarcasm, before returning his focus to Armitage.

“Kid, no one is going to hurt you, all right?” he assured him. “At most, they’re going to sit down with you and ask a few questions. I can be there in the room with you as your guardian if you want.”

Armitage hesitated, before he finally deflated back against the seat, the exhaustion coming back to his face. He turned a somber look up to Din after he had time to mull what he said over, looking like he was afraid to ask what was on the tip of his tongue, before blurting out:

“Will I get to stay with you?”

“I’m not—”

Din cut himself off as he felt Luke’s hand on his knee, and he turned toward him, seeing the faraway look in his eyes. It must have been a Force thing, because he snapped out of it a moment later, a small, reassuring smile coming to his face.

“...we’ll see, okay?” he ended up saying instead.

~.oOOo.~

He may not have brought in Hux, but rescuing the kids that were from Chandrila (and apparently a few that had also been reported missing from other planets) had earned Din the favor of just about the entire New Republic. He had to cash in on it immediately with law enforcement, requesting time with a prisoner he had helped Cara bring in. The request was met with confusion at first — he was a cooperating witness, giving them information they asked for, there was no need for an outside party to question him. Din insisted, however; impressing on them that it was a personal issue regarding his son, and it was not something their interrogators would ask for. Reluctantly, they agreed to a private meeting, the man in question staring at him nervously as the officer explained the rules, before leaving and closing the door behind him.

The moment he heard the lock engage, Din stood,  _ looming  _ over Dr. Pershing as he sunk back in his seat, staring back up at him with wide eyes.

“What were you doing with the First Order?” he demanded. Pershing’s eyes widened further, his mouth moving without sound coming out.

“F-First Order? I don’t—”

_ “Don’t,”  _ Din snapped, cutting off his lie before he could finish it. “I’ve been to the base with the black spire command building. It was crawling with clones wielding lightsabers.”

Pershing’s quivering came to a sudden stop, and he inhaled sharply in surprise.

“They… they finished it?” he asked, something like awe in his voice. Din put a stop to that immediately, pounding a fist on the table and making the doctor jump. “A-all right! I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you!”

Din sat back down, glaring at the doctor through his helmet. Pershing took a moment to compose himself, tugging at the collar of his prison jumpsuit, before he began:

“I was originally brought on for a blood analysis experiment. They were looking for samples with a high m-count, using a wide variety of source data.”

“What’s an m-count?” Din asked.

“Ah— a midichlorian count,” Pershing clarified. “Imperial scientists from around the fall of the Jedi theorized that the higher an individual's midichlorians, the more likely they would be able to use the Force.”

Din already did not like where this was going, but he motioned for the doctor to continue.

“Well, I proved it,” Pershing said, sounding a little excited about his findings. “It was a blind test, so that we didn’t know the blood donors until after. Every single known Jedi had a  _ massive  _ m-count.” He paused, fidgeting in his pleasure over discussing his findings. “Jedi Skywalker’s was the highest tested, though I suspect if Lord Vader had more of his natural limbs, his might have been higher.”

Din tilted his head, drumming his fingers on the table between them. Pershing got the hint, calming himself.

“With the theory proven as fact, we moved on to the possibility of creating a clone with a high m-count,” he continued. “I was given a sample from the Emperor’s vault: a hand, supposedly taken from a Jedi. But the experiment was a failure; every clone produced was malformed, some even failing to form into a proper fetus. I believed that the sample may have been left in the open air for too long, and may have been contaminated as a result, despite the cauterization on the stump. It was proposed that we combine the sample with a fresh source of midichlorians to try and reconstitute what we had.”

“And that’s why you needed the child,” Din concluded, feeling sick to his stomach.

“Yes,” the doctor replied. “His m-count was remarkably high, and I found it had increased from the last time a sample had been taken. If anything was going to make these clones work, it was him.”

He paused a moment, frowning. “You said the clones were walking around? With lightsabers?”

Din frowned, not exactly wanting to give  _ him  _ any information. But if it led to him getting a better grasp of what was going on…

“They were still malformed, and their eyes were messed up, but they were moving, and they had Jedi powers. One nearly strangled me without touching me.”

For a moment, Pershing looked like he wanted to explode with excitement, but the expression quickly fell from his face.

“Then… unless they had been forming clones without my knowledge, they must have tampered with the growth cycle. Those clones were only a few months old.”

~.oOOo.~

Din still felt perturbed hours later, finally making his way to the apartment Luke had invited him to the first time he came here. He had been wandering the city in the time between leaving the prison center, trying to think and trying not to be sick every time his mind went to the clones only being months old. What made it worse was killing them had likely been a  _ mercy;  _ with how malformed they were, it was very possible their short lives were nothing but pain. It did not make dealing with the death of “young” clones any easier, especially knowing what they looked like under their masks.

He had to knock when he got to the apartment door that time, and he could hear Grogu giggling happily before the door opened. Senator Organa-Solo was there, holding his son in her arms, who immediately reached for Din. He took him from her, pressing his forehead against his helmet and holding him there, just listening to the happy coos he was letting out.

“Mando?” the senator asked, and he finally noticed that she was dressed down compared to when he first saw her, wearing slacks and with her hair done up in a simple braid that very nearly touched the floor. “You can come in.”

“Thank you,” he managed to get out, stepping inside as she allowed him into the apartment. He could see a temporary wall had been erected to block out the elements, though there were still tarp sheets hung up to isolate it from the rest of the living room. Armitage was curled up on the floor next to Ben, a datapad between them that the younger boy kept pointing to, talking softly. Armitage had a disturbed look on his face, though he was listening intently.

“Armitage revealed he didn’t have much of an education to speak of,” Leia explained softly. “Just what he read in books and ‘Imperial hero’ stories. Ben wanted to fill him in. I’ve never seen him talk this much before.”

Din internally felt a bit relieved Ben had jumped on him so quickly. He did not know the full extent of the abuse Armitage had gone through, just that anyone willing to be a friend could help him.

“Thanks for looking after him today, and for taking care of Grogu,” he said. “I wish I could’ve done more to repay you.”

Leia waved him off. “You did the right thing, saving Armitage instead of pursuing his father,” she replied, keeping her voice low so the kids could not hear her, “and you saved a lot of families today. That’s more than enough.”

Din nodded at that, looking down at Grogu. He met his gaze, reaching a tiny hand up, patting his chest as a “buu buu” noise came from his mouth. He smiled faintly, reaching up and letting him wrap his hand around a finger.

“Is Luke back yet?” he asked, only to have Leia pause, staring at him in confusion.

“I thought he was with you.”

An unsettled feeling rose in Din’s chest, and he very nearly swore aloud. Leia was already reaching for Grogu as he handed him back to her, probably sensing where this was going.

“Where does he park his X-wing?” he asked. “The military base?”

“No; it’s decommissioned,” she replied. “There’s a landing pad out behind this complex.”

Din took off like a shot, bolting through the apartment complex to get to the back, as she indicated. Thankfully there was no one around to impede his frantic dash, and the door out to the landing pad automatically opened at his approach. Outside, he saw a number of yachts that clearly belonged to people that made an obscene amount of money for doing very little. Only one ship stuck out as not belonging — a banged up YT-1300 freighter that was definitely someone's mid-life crisis ship.

No X-wing.

“Dank  _ ferrik!”  _ he swore, really wishing there was something around that he could kick in frustration.

He paced back and forth for a moment, letting his anger bleed out, before heading back to the senator’s apartment. She had left the door open for him, and she was seated on the couch with Grogu on her lap as he entered. Armitage and Ben were still on the floor, though they had stopped reading the datapad, and Ben was clinging to the other boy’s arm in worry. The sight of the two boys — and the relief that Armitage seemed to be okay with people touching him — helped him keep his tone from being too severe when he finally spoke.

“Your brother has a listening problem,” he grumbled. “I told him not to do anything stupid.”

“He probably thought of it as an invitation to do just that,” Leia quipped, the same kind of dry sarcasm that her brother had escaping from her mouth. At least she seemed to be as annoyed with him as he was. “Are you going to go after him?”

Din hesitated, looking down at Grogu. He let out a sad noise, his ears drooping a little, and his heart broke. He had been  _ hoping  _ to get a few days of rest, to spend time with his son and help Armitage, and maybe even figure out his feelings like an adult. Luke had to go and ruin it though; he  _ swore  _ he was going to drag him back to his planet by his  _ ear. _

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, reaching over to pat his son’s head. Grogu looked up at him, before lifting his tiny hand, opening and closing it in an attempt at waving goodbye. He smiled weakly, glad he was wearing his helmet, before glancing up at Leia, “Do you mind looking after them?”

“Of course not,” she replied, reaching over and giving his arm a squeeze. “Bring him home. Drag him if you have to.”

Din nodded, getting up to leave after bopping Grogu’s forehead with his helmet and patting both Armitage and Ben on the head, telling them to be good. He  _ stormed  _ down the hall once the door closed behind him, which was why he was nearly on the other side of the building when he realized there were small feet running to catch up to him. A groan almost escaped from him, and he was not surprised to see Armitage behind him when he turned, rushing to catch up with him. He was winded when he finally stopped, though he hid it well.

“I want to go with you.”

Somehow, Din managed not to swear, kneeling down so he was at his level.

“Kid, knowing Luke, where he’s going isn’t going to be a place for someone your age.”

Armitage forced himself to stand a little straighter, jutting his lower jaw out. “I’m  _ nine!  _ I’m not a kid!”

Stars help him, he might have found that cute if the situation were different. Instead he let out a sigh, standing up and ready to drag him back, only to stop short when then boy damn near shouted:

“I want to fight like you do!”

Din paused, very nearly freezing solid. He remembered the look Luke had given him on the ship, that faraway gaze that kept him from discouraging Armitage from staying with him the first time. Spontaneous visions of the future ran in the family, hunh? He wondered if he knew this would happen.

A  _ warning  _ would have been nice.

“You want to be a Mandalorian?” he asked, careful not to sound doubtful, just to make sure he knew what he was saying. If anything, Armitage looked even more determined than he was already.

_ “Yes.” _

A hand went to Din’s helmet like he was nursing a headache. Was this seriously happening? He could barely take care of a kid with the life he led; how was he supposed to raise  _ and  _ train one? Especially  _ this  _ kid, who went through trauma he could not even  _ begin  _ to guess at? Besides, he never trained any of the foundlings; his responsibility was to provide for the covert, show himself to the outside so the Tribe could survive. He did not know where to  _ start  _ when it came to training a child!

“Being a Mandalorian means you’re both hunter and prey,” he said, trying for one last attempt at discouraging him. “You  _ sure  _ you want that kind of life?”

Something strange happened to Armitage’s expression then, and it reminded Din of that moment Luke had been angry, to the point where he half expected to feel a cold chill again. His green eyes darkened, like there was a fire burning in his body and the smoke was clouding his irises.

“I’ve spent plenty of time being prey, sir,” he hissed softly. “I’d like to try being a hunter now.”


	7. Chapter 7

This was Din Djarin’s life now.

His first stop on the journey to hunt down the Jedi that was making his existence hell was Kamino, the most well known cloning site in the entire galaxy. He found very few facilities above the surface of the planet’s endless ocean that were still open, however; the old cloning cities had long been shut down, with the only floating establishment showing any kind of life being Tipoca City. Speaking to the Kaminoans left there proved difficult, many of them not even realizing a Jedi had been in their midst until he gave a description of Luke.

“I did not realize he was a Jedi,” one of the women he asked intoned, her head bobbing on her long neck as she spoke. “Jedi do not wear black, usually. I have only heard of one other that did so, but that was a generation ago.”

Asking about cloning only really led to what he already knew — that the cloning facilities shut down when the Empire was established, and very few were trained in the science of it since, with Dr. Pershing being the last to graduate from their academy.

“I will tell you what I told your Jedi, Mandalorian,” one of the professors from the academy began when he asked after Luke. “We learned long ago not to meddle with the biology of a Jedi. The life of a Jedi and their Force is symbiotic; it cannot be replicated by normal means.”

“So what would abnormal means be?” he asked.

The Kaminoan bobbed his head in thought. “I believe it may require sampling from several generational lines.”

He found out Luke went to Endor after that, and Din could not help but be confused by that one. Why would anyone want to go back to the site of the second Death Star’s destruction? There was nothing out there except a bunch of primitive natives and  _ a lot  _ of trees.

As it turned out, there  _ was  _ more there than just natives, as he got jumped on by a wookiee almost as soon as he left the ship. Din had yelled that he was not there to hunt, but it was not until Armitage jumped on the wookiee’s back, tugging on the big guy’s fur, that the wookiee finally paused, growling out something in recognition. Din’s ability to understand Shyriiwook was about as terrible as his ability to speak Jawa, but he got the gist — this was the wookiee he had heard when he was injured on Chandrila.

“I’m looking for Luke,” he explained when things finally calmed down. The wookiee — Chewbacca; apparently a long time friend, as he affectionately referred to Luke as “Sky Cub” — had not seen him. He was there visiting friends he made during the battle five years ago, and did not even know the Jedi had been on planet until he saw his X-wing leave.

He  _ did  _ know where he would have gone while on the moon, however.

Chewbacca led them deep into the woods, to a bright clearing in the middle of the massive trees. Just stepping near it felt like Din was invading on something deeply sacred, and the bright light and lush greenery that clustered in the area gave it the feel of a holy site. The remains of a pyre stood in the middle of the clearing, long burned out to the point that nature was trying to reclaim it as its own. It had clearly been disturbed, and recently — the impressions of bones that had not quite burned and an oddly shaped skull remained in the ashes, with clear signs of fingers digging around the imprints. The wookiee snarled when he realized what had happened, enraged that someone would disturb something so important to Luke. Din almost wanted to suggest he had done it himself, but that felt wrong; from the wookiee’s rage, he got the feeling Luke would  _ never _ disturb whomever this had once been.

He moved to leave, only to realize Armitage was staring, transfixed, at the pile of ashes. Frowning, he followed his line of sight to some kind of control box, half melted from the fire that happened there. Various buttons and what might have been lights dotted the thing, and a single strap of leather, half burned, still clung to it.

“Armitage? What’s wrong?”

The boy turned toward him, wide green eyes staring at him like he was an absolute idiot, like the person that had been burned here was  _ obvious.  _ He did not say anything, though, heading off and leaving Din to stare at the ashes in confusion.

...now that he thought about it, that was a lot of burned electronics mixed in what was supposed to be a funeral pyre.

Chewbacca suggested they go to Tatooine next, and Din could not help but sigh, really not in the mood to go to that dustball. He knew it was inevitable; at the very least, he owed Peli an update on Grogu. At least she was happier to see him than she had been the last time, though he suspected that was because his new ship was still intact, and that he had another kid with him.

“Aren’t you the cutest!” Peli exclaimed once she saw Armitage, pinching at his cheeks. The boy glanced up at Din, a pleading look in his eyes, but he just shook his head. He knew already there was no point in trying to stop Peli once she got started.

“I’m here looking for a kid named Skywalker,” he explained once Peli stopped fussing long enough to listen to him.

“What, a bail jumper? Sounds like a bail jumper with a name like that.”

Din shook his head. “No, just an idiot that’s worrying the hell out of his sister.”

Peli pursed her lips, shaking her head. “Well, I never heard the name,” she said, before turning to her droids. “What about you guys? You ever hear of a Skywalker?”

The pit droids chattered back and forth, hopping up and down excitedly. Peli let out an impressed noise, before translating for Din.

“Apparently a slave kid named Skywalker won the Boonta Eve Classic back when there were still podraces. That was forty years ago, so I doubt it’s your guy.”

Din frowned to himself, a cold feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. That had to be Luke’s father… and he had been a slave before being part of the Empire? Had Luke been a slave too? The moment he thought it, he shook it off; no, he had to have been freeborn, if only because his sister had been adopted into a royal family. That did not just happen to slave babies in the middle of nowhere.

“Well… instead of Skywalker, do you know where Boba Fett set up shop?” Din asked. “He’s a Mand—”

“Yeah, yeah, everyone knows Fett,” Peli interrupted him. “He’s been cleaning up around here, clearing out the slave traders and what not. You can find him in Jabba’s old palace.”

With directions in hand and a speeder rented, Din made his way out into the desert wastes, Armitage clinging to his back. The kid looked miserable in the desert heat, but the wind whipping by seemed to help enough that he occasionally let out a squeak when he went over a large dune.

The old Hutt palace was, in fact, a palace this time, much to Din’s surprise. He slowed the speeder down as he approached the wide open gate, spotting people going in and out, some carrying several bags worth of garbage. One stopped to take care of his speeder once he dismounted, letting him know that Fett was inside. He was not surprised to see him working just as hard at cleaning as everyone else, muttering obscenities in Mando’a and Huttese under his breath as he scrubbed furiously.

“You’re here sooner than I thought you’d be,” he grumbled, finally giving up on the slime stain left behind on the throne dias when he saw Din. “What do you need?”

“A fob,” he answered. Fett stared at him for a long moment, only to bark out a deep belly laugh.

“Do I look like I’m set up to issue bounties?” he asked, spreading his arms out to engulf the room. It was a work in progress, and that was being generous about the mess. “Next time I take over a Hutt den, I’m just going to destroy it and build something else in its place.”

Din could not help but let out an amused snort, shaking his head. This was why no one ever took over Hutt dens; if the lingering smell ever went away, it was a damn miracle.

“Not an active one,” he replied. “You said you hunted Luke in the past. Do you still have a fob?”

Fett raised an eyebrow, planting his hands on his hips.

“Did you lose your Jedi?”

Din felt his face heat up, for a moment swearing the other Mandalorian was going to call Luke something  _ else. _

“I didn’t lose him,” he replied stiffly. “He ran off.”

“Uh-hunh,” Fett replied, not even bothering to hide the fact he did not believe him. After a moment, he stood up with a grunt of effort, dusting himself off before motioning for Din to follow him.

Inside  _ Slave 1,  _ Fett picked through the few belongings he had that were not weapons, frowning to himself. Din waited patiently while Armitage wandered, making his way over to the weapons’ rack and peering at the many blasters and rifles intently. He kept one eye on the boy, making sure he did not try to reach for one.

The other Mandalorian let out a triumphant noise as he finally found what he was looking for, popping back up to hand over a fob and a puck.

“Puck’s five years out of date, but it should give an idea of where he might go,” Fett explained as Din activated the fob, not surprised it did not even blip — if Luke was here, he was long gone. “You might also want to check a farmstead near Anchorhead, and a hermit shack out beyond the Dune Sea. The farm is where he grew up, and the shack is where I first cornered him.”

Din nodded to himself, filing the information away as he pocketed the puck and the fob. He was about to thank Fett, when he paused, noticing he was looking over his shoulder. Turning, he saw Armitage was still studying the weapons intently, his eyes scanning each one calculatingly, like he was working out how each one would feel in his hands, sometimes mimicking shooting to get a mental picture.

“Training him?”

“Trying to,” Din admitted. “I… don’t know where to start.”

“No one ever does,” he assured him, before going over to Armitage. The boy looked startled at his approach, backing away like he had done something wrong. Fett held up his hands peaceably, crouching down to reach under the weapons rack, pulling out an old leather weapon belt, sized for a child, and a box.

“This,” he began, helping secure the belt on Armitage, before opening up the box, revealing an old, well cared for blaster, “was my first weapon, given to me by my father. I want you to have it now.”

Armitage looked scared, like there was going to be some catch to accepting such a personal gift. Fett waited patiently, until he finally took it, slipping the weapon into the blaster holster with care, clearly having held one before. Din let out a faint sigh as he watched the two of them, taking in the faint twitch of an almost smile that came to the boy’s face as Fett mussed his hair. Well, he supposed that was a start.

The old farmstead turned out to be a slight dead end, at least at first. It was a burnt out husk, picked clean of anything worth salvaging years ago. The only thing out of place was a hole dug in the sand near the front of the building. It must have been a family grave, because two skeletons, as charred as the house, had been left inside, next to a wrapped bundle that looked like it had a proper funeral. If anyone else’s remains had been taken, the sand offered no clues.

The hermit hutt was even worse off, looking like a bomb had gone off inside, completely decimating the building. Din tried to pick through the wreckage, finally pushing enough debris aside to locate a trap door that had survived the blast. Inside was nothing but junk, and he almost let out a frustrated sigh, when Armitage tugged at his arm.

“I recognize this tea,” he said, carefully picking up an old wooden box, branded with a swirling, wave-like pattern. “Grand Admiral Sloane used to drink it. It comes from Naboo.”

Din raised an eyebrow, staring at it.

“What’s a desert hermit in the middle of nowhere doing with a fancy tea box from Naboo?”

Armitage gently set the box down, looking like he was going to say something, when he paused. He pushed the box out of the way, half crawling onto the shelf it was on as he reached all the way back, pulling out  _ lightsaber  _ parts that looked eerily similar to Luke’s weapon.

“Not a hermit,” Armitage said softly, with Din nodding in agreement.

“To Naboo then.”

In the time between their planetary travels, when they stopped for supplies or when they were stuck in hyperspace for days, Din did what he could to train Armitage. As he would later tell Fett, he really had no idea where to start; getting him to a healthy weight seemed to be the most important. He did not know what he was deficient in, so he was sure to grab a nutrient pack for everything before they left for Kamino. The kid struggled not to make faces at how awful they tasted, and it was a few days before Din realized it was probably because he was afraid he would be hit if he showed any kind of displeasure.

Everything the kid did was prefixed with a request — “May I use the ‘fresher?” “May I have lunch?” “Could I possibly go to bed early?” Din struggled not to lose his patience, having trouble wrapping his head around why he did this. He had never been like this when he was younger; the only time he needed to make requests and ask permission was if he was in the middle of training.

But then, he had a happy home, even before he was taken in by the Watch.

“Armitage, I promise,” he began one day after finally figuring out why he did this, “you don’t need to get permission to do everything. There are some things you can just  _ do.” _

Armitage did not seem to believe him, and it took him daringly using the refresher without asking first before the questions finally started to ease back.

After they were done at Endor (and seeing the kid crazy enough to jump on the back of a  _ wookiee),  _ Din decided it was time to start with some basic defenses in hand-to-hand combat. It quickly became apparent that this was a bad suggestion, as Armitage grew very quiet and shrank back, his hands clenched at his sides.

“Kriff,” he muttered under his breath, wanting to hit his head against the wall. Instead, he sat down, taking a deep breath before removing his helmet and motioning for Armitage to come sit on his lap. He hesitated, realizing there was not going to be any hitting involved, before climbing onto his lap, leaning against Din as he wrapped his arms around him.

“Do you know why they called the battle droids from the Clone Wars ‘clankers’?” he asked, not surprised when Armitage shook his head. “That’s the sound they made when they walked. And it’s…”

He trailed off, swallowing hard. For a moment, he was a kid again, huddled in the panic shelter his parents had not had the time to lock.  _ Clank. Clank.  _ Blaster fire. Screams.  _ Clank. Clank.  _ Din had to force himself to breath, shoving the memory to the back of his mind where it belonged.

“It’s the same sound an Armorer’s hammer and tongs make when they’re forging,” he managed to continue, his voice wavering at first. “And if it’s your armor they’re making, you need to sit and wait through the whole process.”

Armitage looked up at him, taking in all the beskar he was covered in, green eyes filled with both sadness and understanding and fear. It was a moment before he swallowed, still looking scared but determination was sneaking it’s way into his expression.

“I think I’m ready to try now.”

By the time they made it to Tatooine, he could throw a pretty good punch without hesitating.

It was not until they stopped to pick up supplies after coming back to Mos Eisley that they encountered their first real trouble. They were just a bunch of dumb, petty criminals, not even bounty hunters, and some of them were halfway to drunk, if not completely there. Still, they saw the shine of beskar and put up a fight, expecting the Mandalorian to be the one to fight back. What they did not expect was a kid attacking them, and screams rang out with each shot from Armitage’s new blaster, hitting the dumb drunk idiots in their hands or at the belt.

It was probably the first time in a fight for his armor that Din did not have to do anything.

The drunk cowards turned tail the moment they realized they were going to die to an adolescent, fleeing into the darkening streets. Din stood there, shock still, watching as Armitage took stock of the blaster, before putting the safety back on and returning it to the holster. He realized a moment later he was being stared at, and he turned his gaze up to Din

“Was… was that not okay?” he asked softly, shaking him out of his shock.

“No… no, that was more than okay,” he said, before picking Armitage up, resting his helmet against his forehead. The kid squirmed, confusion on his face when Din pulled away.

“You do that to Grogu too,” he said. “Does it mean something?”

"It's how a Mandalorian shows affection," Din explained, and for a moment, Armitage did not seem to understand. His face lit up once he realized what he meant, his eyes widening.

_ "Oh, _ so it's like a kiss, but with your helmet in the way."

Din chuckled. "That's a good way to describe it, yeah."

Armitage fell quiet a moment, looking down at his smaller hands, before he reached up, placing them on either side of Din's helmet and leaning forward to bop his head against it.

"Thank you, Mr. Djarin," he said, treating him to the first soft, genuine smile he may have ever made, and Din  _ swore _ he felt his heart melt into a puddle.

This was Din Djarin’s life now, and honestly? It was not that bad.

~.oOOo.~

If Armitage could press his face against the viewport, Din had a feeling he would have as they came out of hyperspace above Naboo. He craned himself up over the instrument dashboard, mouth open slightly as he took in the sight of it, glittering like a finely polished jewel in the middle of space. He did not sit back in his seat until Din finished speaking with traffic control, the brilliant blue-green of the planet starting to engulf the viewport.

“...did you know Naboo has an elected monarchy?”

Din paused at that, peering over at Armitage. This was the first time the kid had ever tried to make small talk, and he had not expected him to start, so it took him a moment to respond.

“No, I didn’t.”

Armitage nodded, more to himself than to Din. “It was established around a hundred and fifty years ago, when the last of the hereditary monarchy died without an heir. The Nubians were in the middle of open war with the native Gungans at the time, so they elected a strong military leader as king. After the war, it remained an elected position, though with the provision that it could return to hereditary appointment at any time. That provision was only offered once, to the Great Queen Amidala, but she turned it down.”

Din found himself slowly turning to stare at Armitage as he rambled on like a textbook, so distracted that traffic control snapped back onto the com, yelling that he was veering off course. He jerked the ship back onto its flight path, muttering apologies as he felt his face turn red. Finally, once traffic control was done yelling at him for being an idiot, he glanced back at Armitage, his surprise clear even though his face was covered.

“I thought you said you didn’t have much of an education,” he said. “How do you know all that?”

The kid bit his lip, peering up at him shyly, still a little afraid of being honest about himself, but also trusting Din.

“I read,” he said softly, swinging his legs back and forth. “I read  _ a lot,  _ and I have a very good memory.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, tilting his head toward him. “What else you got?”

Armitage fell silent for a long moment, clearly mulling over in his head what he wanted to say. Din remained quiet as well, letting him think as he focused on flying toward the Theed starport.

“Technically, anyone could build a lightsaber,” he finally settled on. “I saw the engineers at that place building them for those things. It’s really not that difficult; it’s just a power cell sized for the kind of blade you want, modulation circuits, an energy gate… the hilt, of course, to hold it all, and of course the emitter shroud where the blade comes out, and the emitter matrix with an activator to make the blade. The hardest part would be getting the crystal that it uses, and that is only because the planet where they’re the most plentiful is strictly held by what remains of the Empire.”

Din was pretty sure he had a headache; that was a lot of information about something he barely understood to absorb at once. All he knew about lightsabers was to press the button and a blade happened; he was pretty sure if he ever got a hold of any of those crystals, there would be lightsabers all over the ship.

“Remind me to get you a datareader while we’re here,” he said, not missing it when Armitage beamed. He peered over at him, getting the sinking suspicion he was going to need to keep an eye on anything electronic, lest it end up in pieces because he got curious.

He landed the ship, paid the docking fee, and asked the portmaster if he knew of any X-wings that landed recently. The man gave him half of a glance, muttering something about pilot privacy, before closing the blinds for his booth in Din’s face. He frowned, not sure what to make of  _ that  _ response.

As they headed into the city proper, Din realized he had no  _ idea  _ where to even start. Luke was not here anymore — he had checked the fob when he entered the system — but he also did not know what he would come here  _ for.  _ All he had to go on was a box of tea in a destroyed house that had lightsaber parts that happened to resemble Luke’s. Beyond that, he had no idea who to even ask for information.

They came out of the port into a crowded square, most of the people crushed around them stopping to pay respects to a statue standing in the center of the area. Din approached curiously; the statue was cut from perfectly white marble, and it was of a woman in a long gown adorned with jewels and wearing an elegant headdress that fanned out around her head. All along the base of the statue were flowers from just about every world imaginable, very nearly spilling out onto the walking paths.

“Is this that Great Queen you mentioned?” he asked, peering down at Armitage, seeing him nod.

“Queen Padmé Amidala,” he supplied. “She united the Gungans and the Nubians, and led them to war against an invading droid force. She later represented Naboo in the Republic senate until the end of the Clone Wars, when she—”

He cut himself off with a strangled noise, looking down at his feet. Din peered at him curiously, reaching over to place a hand on his back. Armitage peered up at him, a conflicted look on his face.

“I read she had been killed by Jedi assassins, but that’s probably not true,” he said softly.

Din shifted his hand up so he could squeeze his shoulder comfortingly; the poor kid may be well read, but he was still going to have to navigate around what was Imperial propaganda and what was actual fact.

He was about to suggest they go attempt to do some snooping around the city, when he  _ felt  _ someone at his shoulder. He almost jerked away, reaching for his blaster, but a firm hand grabbed his arm, finely manicured nails digging into it through his body suit.

“Don’t. Move. Mando,” a woman’s voice hissed softly. He stilled, half peering at her as he felt Armitage clutch his other hand. He could not make out any of her features; a fine lavender cloak was pulled low over her eyes, and she deliberately kept her face turned away from him.

“You won’t find who you’re looking for here,” she continued. “He has already seen that our Great Queen’s bones were stolen, and has moved on.”

Din paused at that, trying to figure out what this all possibly meant. Someone was stealing the bones of the dead — an unknown in a forest, possibly a farmer, and now a queen. Were all these people tied to Luke?

...the Kaminoans  _ had  _ said cloning a Jedi might work with samples from multiple generations…

Before he could ask, he felt the woman press something in his hand: a small data chip of some kind.

“He left you a message, but I must ask you,” she continued,  _ “please  _ find him. My lady would not want her child to suffer like she suffered.”

She moved away, releasing his arm, and Din immediately spun around, trying to see who she was. The crowd was too thick, however, obscuring even the vaguest hint of a lavender cloak.

~.oOOo.~

They spent the day on Naboo, even though the brief encounter with the unknown woman had left them both feeling unsettled. Din, at the very least, made sure to get Armitage a good meal and the datareader he promised, already loaded with books he had not read yet. They returned to the ship once night fell, and Din made sure Armitage was securely tucked into the only bunk on the vessel before heading up to the cockpit.

He was not sure how many hours he sat there, turning the data chip over in his hand. Part of him felt he knew what was on the chip already, and he was afraid to hear it spoken aloud. Yet he knew if he did not listen, and soon, he would find himself regretting it.

A heavy sigh escaped from him, before he stilled, listening for the sound of Armitage sleeping, before sliding the data chip into his com unit. A small image of Luke appeared almost immediately, and despite the fact he was putting forth the image of a model Jedi, he could see the cracks around the edges, how he was really tired and worn, despite the mask he hid himself behind. His image seemed to look straight at him, as if he knew where he would be when he played the message.

_ “Din,” _ Luke began,  _ “I know you’ve been following me, and I appreciate your dedication, but I have to ask you to stop. You’ve… seen my family line. You’ve seen the resting place of my father — of Darth Vader — and my grandmother, Shimi Skywalker. You’ve seen how they’ve been defiled. Now, despite her protectors, my mother, Padmé Amidala — her remains have gone missing as well.” _

Luke paused, and Din would see another crack in the mask. He found himself reaching up, taking off his helmet, laying himself bare as Luke’s tiny image did the same.

_ “I don’t understand the point of all this,” _ he continued softly, the pain in his voice easy to hear.  _ “I don’t understand why it has to be me they’re doing this to, but I sense there is a greater purpose behind it. I feel it's just a test for something far larger than myself.” _

He paused again, and the last crack appeared before the mask finally shattered. Luke’s image bowed his head, trying to hide the emotion he was feeling. It was useless; even with the blue tint of the hologram, Din could see the shine of tears in his eyes.

_ “That’s why I can’t have you following me, Din,”  _ he said, the pain he felt making his voice crack slightly.  _ “I… want you. I want all of you, far more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. Your kindness, your dedication; you’re a gift to everyone you meet. I’m truly blessed to have been allowed in your orbit, however briefly, but… I can’t love you, no matter how desperately I want to. I  _ need  _ to be a Jedi; I need to be able to stop this, to protect this galaxy from whatever is coming, and… if I love you, I’m afraid I will never let you go, and that will only make things worse.” _

Luke’s image blurred as the Jedi reached up to wipe away his tears, and it was a moment before Din realized it was because his own were getting in the way. He swiped at them furiously, trying to keep his gaze on the message.

_ “Goodbye, Din. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the Jedi you needed for Grogu. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the person for you.” _

With that, the image winked out, leaving Din alone in the cold cockpit.


	8. Chapter 8

~.oO TWO YEARS LATER Oo.~

Corellia was still recovering from the excessive disregard for labor laws and worker safety imposed on the massive ship building yards by the Empire. The workers still looked haggard and ragged on the best of days, and the scum of the galaxy blended in well with them, to the point where they were just as likely to get a drink after work with a coworker as someone that just murdered a man. One such scum was Kelvin Lonstrom, a grizzled human that killed his first man as a teen, and had been thrown in and escaped out of prison several times in the twenty-one years since.

He was resting in one of the many cantinas that dotted the outskirts of the shipyards, laying low after a job done to perfection and enjoying his third glass of classic Corellian whisky. There was not much he wanted to pay attention to, though he absently noticed a tall and lanky kid walking past him, a dim part of his addled mind wondering what the hell a kid was doing in a place like this. It did not matter, nor did he care much about the clacking noise he heard coming from somewhere.

At least, not until he tried to set his glass down.

It smacked loudly against something that had not been on the table before, and he fumbled to save it before it fell over, just barely succeeding. His expression screwed up in annoyance, picking up the oval thing that was suddenly in the way, turning it over in his hands. He had seen this kind of thing before…

When Kelvin realized it was a bounty puck, there was a soft voice from the booth behind him:

“You can go in warm or cold, your choice.”

He hissed under his breath, a hand dropping to his blaster, pulling it as he swung around, only to have a blaster already right in his face. The kid he noticed before was on the other side of it, bright green eyes staring at him, and the fire that burned in them made Kelvin realize very quickly that this kid could and  _ absolutely would  _ murder him. Panic set in immediately, and he did the only thing he could think of:

He ran for it.

Unfortunately for him, he managed to get about three feet away before he felt something wrap around him, pinning his arms to his sides and binding his legs together. He pitched forward with a yelp, landing face first on the grated metal floor. The cantina went quiet around him, and he felt eyes on him before he was grabbed by the scruff of his shirt, dragged along the floor and outside into the cold night air.

“Hey,” he grunted out, trying to struggle against the cord that held him. “Hey, kid. Look. Lemme make you a deal—”

“Oh,  _ do  _ shut up,” the kid interrupted, voice heavy with a core accent, finally pausing and looking around. He reached his other hand up a moment, waving enthusiastically, his accent noticeably easing back as he called out, “Dad! I got him!”

Kelvin craned his head up, trying to see who he was shouting for. He could not get a good enough look, not until the person came closer, and the shine of beskar entered his vision. A loud groan escaped from him then, letting himself go limp in the kid’s grasp.

There was no way he was getting away from two Mandalorians, even if one of them was a kid.

~.oOOo.~

With the last scumbag frozen in carbonite and hanging with the rest they had gathered over the last week, Din let out a heavy sigh, glaring up toward the cockpit, before he climbed up. He stood just in the doorframe, his gaze boring holes through his helmet and into the back of the head of the kid sitting in the co-pilot seat. Said kid  _ clearly  _ knew he was there — the flinch gave him away — but busily finished what he was doing with the navicomputer before turning around in his seat to face him. 

“Before you get mad—”

“Too late for that.”

“—I totally had several contingency plans,” Armitage continued, like Din had not said anything. “I had him no matter what he did.”

Din pointed a reprimanding finger in his face. “You would have been shot several times over if he wasn’t drunk and a coward,” he stated bluntly. “You could have—”

He paused, looking down as Armitage fidgeted, noticing that the bottom of his pants were so short they were pulling out of his boots with the slightest movement.

“…did you grow again?!”

Armitage hunched his shoulders, a sheepish smile on his face. 

“It’s not like I can  _ control _ it,” he protested. 

“Yes, yes you can,” Din insisted. “Just stop growing. You’re not allowed to be taller than I am.”

His human son fidgeted again, struggling very hard not to grin, but failing miserably, the giggles starting soon after. Din let out a sigh, leaning forward to bop his helmet against his forehead, before settling in the pilot’s seat. Armitage turned his chair to follow his movement, and Din found his gaze drifting down, remembering when it took him grabbing onto the console in order to turn, because his feet could not reach the floor. Now his knobby knees stuck up off the seat and his spindly arms could reach all the way to the weapons dash without stretching too much. It made Din feel old seeing Armitage growing like a weed, to the point he had to keep reminding himself he had been nine when he found him, and it had only been two years since.

…only two years…

The atmosphere in the cockpit turned grim as he remembered the time that had passed, the two of them drifting in and out of civilization, pausing their main hunt only to get side jobs for food and supplies. He vaguely noticed Armitage bite his lip as Din’s gaze drifted toward the com unit and the data chip he had not had the heart to remove. His kid let out a breath, before turning back around, confirming that the ship was primed and ready to go.

“I’ve already got the course for Nevarro set,” he announced. “We might want to consider replacing the left alluvial dampener, but otherwise, all we’ll need is fuel to make the trip all the way to Yavin-Four, like Senator Organa suggested.”

The fourth moon of Yavin, site of the first Death Star’s demise, now home to a small village of Rebellion retirees. He did not think Luke would be there and neither did Leia, but he had to have old friends on that moon, perhaps even someone that would know where he would go.

Travelling to Nevarro felt like a blur, like so much had been the last two years. He had some moments of clarity — the times he visited Grogu, and the time Armitage accidentally called him “dad”, and then proceeded to stick with it — but most everything else passed him by. Occasionally, the sympathetic look registered — like now, when Cara gave him that look as she paid out the bounties they brought in — or when he would catch Armitage or Leia muttered about smacking Luke, but he never commented on them. He knew he was being ridiculous, pining after something that was only sexual desire left unfulfilled because neither of them had been able to do anything about it.

No matter how hard he tried to convince himself that was true, no matter how much he insisted that he was trying so hard to find him because Leia was a nice lady and she asked him to, he knew the truth. He knew it every time he heard  _ I want you  _ echo in his ears, every time he remembered his hand brush against scars and how easily Luke slotted up against him when they were trapped. The sad looks, the sarcastic smirks, the genuine smiles would flit into his mind on occasion, and the first time he had flipped on the now seven years out of date puck and saw Luke with a head of fluffy hair he damn near melted into a sobbing puddle on the deck.

Din had it  _ bad  _ for a dumb, self sacrificing Jedi, and he knew it was probably going to end badly even if he did find him, but he did not care. He so  _ desperately  _ needed to hold him again, at the  _ very  _ least.

Armitage had to mutter a soft, “Dad, we’re here,” before he even realized they made it from Nevarro to Yavin IV, and he had to pause a moment — did his kid not mention they needed a dampener replaced? They did that before they left, right? Din shook his head; even if he did not request it, he was sure Armitage would have made it happen. His kid was resourceful, even if some of the ways he showed it gave him heart attacks, like the time he found half his weapons disassembled because he found a way to improve their energy output.

Din let out a faint breath, steering the ship with one hand as he took out the old fob, flicking it on. The past two years, it had been completely silent, and Din was almost worried that the thing did not even work anymore.

Except now it was  _ finally  _ beeping, indicating Luke was in the system.

He felt his heart leap up in his throat, spotting Armitage’s eyes widening. Din met his son’s gaze, nodding, before piloting the ship toward the moon as fast as he safely could.

The settlement was easy enough to find, clustered around a giant, ancient temple. When he talked about coming here the last time he spoke with Leia, she told him the main Rebellion base was once housed in that temple, and they had to flee from it after the first Death Star was destroyed. Now, it was as empty as its original builders had left it, stripped by ISB and apparently some archeologist Din had not heard of before, left standing as a reminder of how far the Rebellion had gone in four short years. Now, little huts dotted the area around it, and Din caught sight of a few kids at play as he landed. The place seemed… homely; it was a nice change from the pits of the galaxy they had been in recently, and reminded him vaguely of Sorgan.

The locals were not as nice as the krill farmers, though. A man was waiting for them as soon as they descended from the boarding ramp. There was a hard look on his face, half hidden by a trimmed bush of a beard. A heavy blaster was in his hands, and while he held it to the side, the look in his eyes said he would have it pointed at them in less than a second.

“What do you want here, bounty hunter?” he demanded as soon as they made it to the end of the ramp. “There’s no need for your kind here.”

Din held up his hands, showing that he was not going to reach for a weapon.

“We’re not—” he began, cutting himself off and nudging Armitage to get his hands up as well. His kid rolled his eyes, before complying with a sigh. “We’re not here hunting, but we are looking for someone, at the request of a family member.”

The man narrowed his eyes, not seeming convinced. “Oh yeah? Who you ‘looking’ for?”

Why could no one ever believe that bounty hunters would just  _ look  _ for people too?

“Luke Skywalker, on behalf of Senator Organa-Solo.”

Surprise registered on the man’s face, his blaster lowering marginally.

“Luke’s missing?” he asked, and Din allowed himself to relax, finally lowering his hands.

“For about two years now,” he explained. “You knew him?”

The man hesitated a moment, finally lowering his weapon all the way before explaining, “My wife did.” He paused, offering his hand. “Kes Dameron, former Pathfinder for the Alliance.”

Armitage tilted his head curiously as Din shook the man’s hand.

“You were part of the Endor force, weren’t you?” he asked, and Din felt himself stiffen slightly. His kid meant well, he knew he did and he knew he was trying to learn, but sometimes the Imperial propaganda that had been ingrained into his head by his real father came out of his mouth. He braced himself, ready to apologize for him, but Armitage stopped his question there, and Dameron let out an amused noise.

“That’s right,” he replied. “I served under General Solo.”

Dameron looked between the two of them again, before he finally swung the strap for the heavy blaster over his head, settling it on his shoulder.

“If it helps, some of the others have said they’ve seen someone in a cloak in the jungle,” he offered, “but it’s always at night, so no one knows for certain if they  _ really  _ saw anyone.”

“It’s something more than I’ve had,” Din replied, before turning to Armitage. “Wait here.”

Not surprising, his kid looked insulted at being told to stay put, and his mouth immediately flew open to protest.

“Jedi stuff is dangerous, remember?” Din cut him off before he could whine about it. “Stay  _ here.” _

Armitage pouted stubbornly, but Din was already starting out into the surrounding jungle, his heart in his throat as he slipped the fob into his hand.

~.oOOo.~

It was pitch black before the fob started beeping rapidly, indicating that Luke was close.

Din swept the fob over the area, creeping ever steadily forward. All through the day, the jungle had been hot and humid, with various creatures to chirp and buzz and growl at the air around him. Now it was dead quiet, and there was a chill in the air that felt vaguely familiar. It carried with it a warning; that he needed to stay away, that he was not going to like what was on the other end of that biting cold.

But he heard Luke’s pained voice in his mind, and he kept pushing forward.

He came out over a clearing, looking down on a small temple, similar to the old Rebel base. People were moving back and forth quickly, dressed in dark clothes and impossible to make out clearly in the faint light of Yavin Prime above. Din frowned to himself, about to creep down the ledge overlooking the area, when he caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye, and ducked back instead, keeping to the shadows of the jungle, careful not to let his armor shine in the dim light.

Two people entered his line of sight, talking softly to one another. One was wearing the black uniform he had not recognized, though this close he could see it was vaguely Imperial in design. The other… the other was shorter than his companion, his features hidden by a long, hooded cloak, though as he walked, he could see the shine of fancy black boots.

Feeling his heart stuttering in his chest, Din took out the fob, carefully covering it with a hand to muffle the sound, before turning it on. It hummed rapidly, indicating the person whose genetic code was imprinted on it was right in front of him.

_ Luke. _

The man in uniform saluted, heading to where others were working in the distance and leaving Luke standing there, his hands pressed together before him, both hands covered with black gloves. Tense silence hung thick in the air, and it was not until the last of the workers disappeared from sight that the Jedi spoke, his voice soft, but sounding like it was right next to him.

“You can come out, Din. No one will interrupt us.”

Something was wrong; Din could feel it down in his bones, but he still carefully stepped out of the jungle, jumping down the ledge and activating his jet pack briefly so he could land behind Luke safely. He approached him carefully, worried about how he was so rigid, how he seemed to refuse to turn back to look at him.

“I thought I told you not to follow me,” Luke said, still speaking softly, though Din could hear him without issue.

“You knew I wouldn’t listen,” Din replied automatically, reaching to grab Luke by the shoulder and turn him around, but he slipped away from his grasp easily.

“I know,” he replied simply, his voice  _ cold.  _ “But you should have listened.”

Din saw him shift, the hair prickling on the back of his neck as he saw the dark cloak slip to the side, giving him a clear view of the Jedi reaching for his lightsaber. The weapon  _ hissed  _ to life in the next moment, but instead of verdant green, it was blood red. He took a step away from the Jedi as he turned, revealing his soft and youthful face, made so much more wrong by the red rimmed yellow eyes that stared back at him. Din’s spear was swinging off his back the next moment, poised to kill, never mind whose face this person wore.

“You’re a clone,” he hissed, but even as he did, something felt wrong. His face was too perfect, and unlike the clones from before, this one had hair peeking out from under the hood of his cloak. The Jedi let out an amused snort, the same smirk that was uniquely Luke’s coming to his face.

“Clone?” he echoed, lifting his saber casually, using the blade to push aside the spear. “Oh Din; are you still so ignorant of the Force that you don’t know what its Dark Side does to a person?”

Din felt his heart flip in his chest, remembering the darkness Luke mentioned, and how attachment could lead a Jedi to it. Had he… fallen into that darkness? Had him leaving, forcing distance between the two of them, come too late?

Luke’s eyes were locked on him as he approached, and Din found himself frozen in place, even as the lightsaber made the spear white hot. He stopped just inches from him, giving him a playful smirk as he reached out, cupping the side of his helmet with a hand, before pulling it back, his fingers slipping underneath to trail along the underside of his chin.

“I can show you what the Dark Side is, you know,” he murmured softly, the chill of his presence enough to draw Din in closer. “I think you’d like it. It allows me to be much more…  _ honest  _ with my emotions.”

Din felt his mouth go dry. Now that he thought about it, Luke did seem  _ happier,  _ more willing to express his feelings. If that was how the Dark was… maybe it was not actually as bad as it seemed. He felt his grip on the spear loosen, a dim part of his mind acknowledging it was hot enough for him to feel through his gloves. His other hand reached up, not giving much thought to pulling off his helmet, even as Luke raised his lightsaber— 

A blaster shot rang out.

Din jerked, feeling like he was waking from a bad dream.

He stumbled back, pressing a hand to the bow of his helmet after letting it drop back into place, feeling disoriented. It took him a moment to remember where he was and what he was doing, and then… he saw Luke’s twisted body lying on the stone walkway, sightless yellow eyes staring at him and a gaping hole in his neck. Din was so out of it, he could barely register the heat that lingered, the shot that took the Jedi out having come close to hitting his pauldron instead. There was the sound of the brush rustling and someone sliding along dirt before boots slapped onto stone, and he could not find it in himself to be mad about Armitage ignoring his order to stay put. His kid came closer, sniper rifle carefully cradled in his hands, as Din crouched down, reaching out to the hood of the corpse and pulling it back, revealing the rest of his scalp was rotting and malformed.

“How did you know?” Din managed to get out, his gaze finally flicking up to his son and the mournful look on his face.

“Because, Luke Skywalker isn’t an evil wizard.”

The sound of a ship taking off drew their attention away from the corpse, Din standing back up as a boxy transport vessel came into view. It turned about, showing off an angular symbol vaguely reminiscent of the Empire’s insignia stamped on the side as it made its way to space.

“The First Order,” Armitage breathed, and Din turned to see him clutching his rifle so hard, his knuckles were white.

~.oOOo.~

“When was the last time you had a restful sleep, Mando?”

Din pulled himself out of his distant musing, looking up to see a mug of tea being offered to him, Leia on the other end of it. He was hunched low on the balcony of the senator’s apartment, having rushed back to Chandrila to tell her of what happened on Yavin IV. It was dark that night and no one was around, and Leia respectfully turned her back to him once he accepted the mug, seating herself in a chair that faced away from him.

He waited until he pulled his helmet off to have a sip of the tea before he answered:

“Not for awhile.”

Leia let out a soft hum, as if to say she could tell without words.

“I keep thinking I’m too late,” he continued softly. “It wasn’t so bad when rumors and tall tales were following in Luke’s wake, but there’s been nothing for a year now.”

He did not even know he was still alive. Leia said he was, said she could feel him, but Din did not have that luxury.

“And when I saw that clone…” he began, but he could not finish. It had been embarrassing how quickly he had let himself believe Luke had fallen into that Dark, that the way he approached him had been enough to convince him that Luke would be  _ happier  _ like that. It made him feel disgusted with himself.

“The Dark Side is… unsettling, disruptive,” Leia began, and Din could see her nursing her cup of tea. “It promises everything and gives nothing in return. I… saw this, when Luke attempted to teach me how to use the Force as he did. It’s why I stopped.”

Din glanced back up at that. The senator had taken over for Grogu in her brother’s absence, teaching him and her son both what she could, though even she admitted she could not do nearly as much for them as Luke could. He finally nodded distantly, not wanting to imagine the horrors she had seen; if it was anything like he had seen already with the clones of Luke…

They sat in silence, finishing their tea, and Leia did not rise until Din put his helmet back on, reaching to take his mug back. She hesitated a moment, before letting out an unsteady breath.

“There is one other place you can try,” she began. “I didn’t mention it before because I had  _ hoped  _ he wouldn’t go there, but…”

She let out an annoyed breath, and Din waited patiently for her to collect herself enough to continue speaking.

“Our… father,” she began, struggling with the title like it was the foulest of curses, “had a palace on Mustafar. It’s hard to miss — it’s a tall black spire in the middle of the lava flows. If he’s nowhere else, he may be there.”

“Thank you,” he said, waiting until she retreated into the apartment before he stood to re-enter himself.

He made his way quietly over to Ben’s room, opening the door a crack. The kids had built a pillow and blanket fort in the middle of the messy room, and Din could just see Armitage, sprawled out on his back, dead asleep. Ben was flopped over on the taller boy’s stomach, murmuring in his sleep, while Grogu was nestled up against his brother’s head. A pained smile came to his face; he loved his kids, would drag them and their friends with him to the ends of the galaxy if they wanted him to, but something about going to the palace of Darth Vader… that sounded like a bad idea for him, not to mention a kid.

“Sorry, Armitage,” he murmured softly, quietly closing the door, before heading out for his ship.

~.oOOo.~

Din checked the fob as soon as he came out of hyperspace, but it was silent once again. Part of him was grateful, as he stared out at the lava encrusted planet before him. If Luke was in a place like this… he did not want to think about how much trouble he could possibly get into here. He wanted to turn around, to tell Leia he was not there and buy whatever ice cream Armitage would want for an apology, but he forced the ship forward and into the atmosphere anyway, trying to ignore the unsettled feeling in his gut.

Like Leia promised, Vader’s palace was not that hard to find: it jutted from the ground like a spike meant to stab the sky. As he got closer, however, he could see that it was dulled, parts of it crumbling from lack of maintenance. Despite the wear, he could see a fully functional docking platform breaking one of the smooth obsidian sides.

A platform that had an X-wing parked on it.

Din’s heart leapt into his throat, immediately coming in for a landing next to the abandoned fighter, barely remembering to put his own ship into standby before hurling himself down the boarding ramp. He was on the X-wing in seconds, checking it over, booting up the computer to see if a message had been left for him, but… there was nothing.

Did he really think he would not have come this far?

Letting out a curse, he dropped back down, heading into the hanger beyond. If Luke was not here, then he had to have taken a different ship. It was not all that surprising to see a wide collection of them in the hanger, covered in seven years worth of settled ash, crept in from the outside. It made it easier to pinpoint that there was a ship missing, though he was not entirely sure what it might have been, considering its footprint had been blasted away at takeoff.

So… he knew Luke was in a different ship, but that was all he knew. Hardly helpful.

He let out an annoyed huff, about to see if there was a working computer he could get information from, when he paused, swearing he heard a faint, hissing noise nearby. Din glanced toward his ship, as if he expected something to break on it, only to quickly realize the noise was not even coming from that direction. The beskar spear was in his hand in the next moment, ears straining to hear where that hissing noise was coming from. He did not want to find it, if he was honest; he rather run into his ship and try his luck figuring out where Luke went from here. But if he left a dangerous enemy out here, they could hinder his escape by damaging his ship, and that was the only reason he carefully edged forward.

He slowly passed by several ships of a make he did not recognize, the unsettling silence broken by the occasional  _ kish-kosh  _ of what Din was beginning to recognize was a respirator, and a poorly made one at that. The sound remained distant, and he was starting to suspect that he was moving  _ away  _ from it…

…until it was suddenly right behind him, along with the  _ snap-hiss  _ of a lightsaber activating.

He spun around, whipping the spear around him just in time to clash loudly with a blood red blade. The…  _ creature  _ on the other side of it loomed over him, looking larger than life itself as its stark back death’s head  _ glared  _ down at him. Fear froze in his throat, and he felt like he was a child in training, all his opponents taller than him, concealed faces staring down at him as he struggled to prove he was worthy of being a Mandalorian.

Din shoved himself away, trying to quash his fear as he caught sight of a vaguely familiar control box on the creature’s chest, before the specter of death was on him, raining blows of plasma on him again and again. Each blow reminded him of the strength the Dark Troopers had, each move reminded him of how Luke fought, and every single hit he had no choice but to block threatened to knock the spear out of his hands, each spark of contact emphasized by the hiss of a respirator. A particularly savage hit forced him to brace the spear against an arm, still struggling with the humanoid’s vast — probably Force enhanced — strength. It drove him backward until he finally  _ thumped  _ against a wall, and Din let out a pained grunt as his own jetpack dug into his spine.

The lightsaber inched ever closer to his head as he struggled to hold the creature off, and he could only gasp in pain, trying desperately to think as his muscles burned from the strain of holding the creature back. In a crazy attempt to get the thing off of him, Din’s boot snapped out, catching it in the knee. He expected it to do very little, so when the humanoid crumpled, falling forward, Din almost was not able to react in time. His feet slipped on the ash covered floor as he slid down, maintaining enough control to fling the spear around, feeling the bladed tip connect and sink into flesh.

“Din…”

He blinked, the dark spector melting away from his sight, replaced with a vision of blonde hair and blue eyes. His breath caught in his throat as he watched Luke clutch at where the spear was embedded in his gut, his already dark clothes darkening further as they soaked in his blood. The Jedi’s eyes were kind, loving and disturbingly accepting, even as he reached a bloody hand toward him. His fingers trailed weakly along his helmet, smearing blood over where his left eye could see through the visor, and Din jerked away, letting go of the spear—

...which clattered to the ground, with nothing on the other side of it; not so much as a drop of blood staining its metallic surface.

The bloody smear on his helmet, however, remained.

Din took another step away, not sure what the  _ hell _ happened, and afraid to even know. The  _ click-click  _ of heels on the floor drew his attention away from the spear, and his blaster was immediately in his hand, raised as a tall, almost elegant humanoid came into view. She wore a veil of delicate crystals, glinting in the dim light and hiding what looked like some sort of breath mask underneath. Her robes draped over her thin frame and dragged along the floor, giving him the impression she was some kind of priestess of an order he did not recognize, and as she stopped before him, he saw her skin was grey, cracked, and ashen, much like the surface of the planet itself.

“Though Mustafar heals, Mandalorian, the Dark Side of the Force still lingers in these hallowed halls,” she intoned, her voice coming out of the breath mask sounding like gravel rubbing together. “The memory of its master and that which he coveted still lingers here, ready to poison an unprepared mind.”

Din slowly lowered his blaster, realizing this woman meant him no harm. Still, after… whatever  _ that  _ was, he was not about to holster it again.

“Are you telling me a  _ memory  _ attacked me?” he asked. “You’re telling me that was Darth Vader?”

_ That  _ was Luke’s  _ father? _

The priestess inclined her head in answer, and Din felt something bitter in the back of his throat. Now he was definitely glad he never took any Imperial bounties before Grogu.

“I’m here looking for his son,” he continued, nodding back toward the landing pad, trying desperately to ignore the blood he could still see on his helmet. “His X-wing is here. Do you know where he went?”

Again, the priestess inclined her head. “He is lost, travelling to find answers to questions he has already answered. He traveled to Zakuul after consulting the data banks here, though if he remains, I cannot say.”

Din felt himself sag in something resembling relief.  _ Finally,  _ after a year, he had a definite location of where Luke could be. There was only one problem with that.

“...where’s Zakuul?”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "mildly dubious consent" tag applies to this chapter. If you want to skip it, stop where it says "Din felt danger crawling up his spine" and pick up again where he's asking "What do you want with me".

Zakuul had once been a galactic seat of power in the ancient days, according to the Mustafarian priestess that guided Din on this path; a world that was strong in the Force, not that he understood what that meant. At this point if someone told him a rock was the strongest Force sensitive creature in the known universe, he would believe it just to be safe. Other than the limited information she had been able to give him, he had nothing to go on; no idea on climate or natives, or if there was anyone already there. All he could do was head to the outer rim and then  _ far  _ beyond that, deep into the unknown regions. Without a clear hyperlane, he had to make much of the journey on the ship’s sublight engines, and he was sure to get several canisters of extra fuel before he left known civilization.

Weeks passed by as he followed the coordinates he had, and for anyone else, he would have turned back after the first week. But it was  _ Luke;  _ no matter how rough this journey was going to be, he knew he had to push on. When the silence got to him, he would play Luke’s last message, remember why he was trying so hard in the first place. It hurt, the reminder of why he had been drifting for the last two years, but it helped him keep focus.

It was not until the start of the third month in space began that he finally caught sight of his destination: a planet the same verdant green as Luke’s lightsaber, shining brilliantly in the light of the system’s sun. Even from this distance, he could see the Star Destroyer in orbit around the planet, and he cut power to all unnecessary systems, making his ship nothing more than an anomalous blip; there and gone for an underpaid Imp to do no more than glance at. Another day gone, and he was in the atmosphere, re-engaging his systems as he made planetfall, out of the Destroyer’s range.

What stretched below him looked and felt like an endless swamp, the signs of civilization long past rising like rotted fingers from the trees. Crumbling walkways crawled out over water, the native flora trying to reclaim it, only to strengthen it instead. He caught sight of aquatic megafauna peeking out from the water, beady eyes watching his ship calculatingly, but nothing rose to attack him.

It was a good hour before he found a clear spot of ruins that seemed stable enough to support the weight of his ship, and he set down, finally giving the poor engines a break. They whined into silence, and Din tried not to think about how much maintenance they were going to need later. Instead, he focused on scanning the area, trying to find signs of sentient life, and finally locating it some distance away: some kind of massive facility that had high energy output readings. It did not take much to figure out it was some kind of First Order base, and if Luke was here…

Din took a deep breath, sliding the fob out of his pouch and flicking it on. It beeped steadily, and he exhaled loudly in relief, which only lasted until he remembered the fob was also starting to respond to the clones as well.

He just  _ knew,  _ though; his gut told him he was going to find Luke here, even if it would take finding several copies of him in the process.

Steeling himself, Din shut everything in the ship down completely before he left, pausing only to take stock of his weapons. He had a feeling he was going to need everything in his arsenal here, even if he did not know exactly what kind of fresh hell he was walking into, and he made sure everything was fully charged and secure before heading out.

The swamp around him was more alive than any city Din had ever been through. A cacophony of noise assaulted his ears as soon as he left his ship, persisting in his trek through the thick trees and muddy ground, to the point he did not hear the stormtrooper standing on one of the many ancient paths until he very nearly walked right into him. Din’s heart was in his throat as he quietly backed up, the noise keeping him from being heard as well.

“—no sign of anyone out here,” the trooper was saying, clearly talking to someone on his internal com. “If the commander did sense someone, they must’ve been eaten by the wildlife.”

A pause followed, the trooper tilting his head like he was listening, before he nodded.

“Yes sir; heading back now.”

Din slipped his spear off his back as the trooper started off, eyeing him calculatingly. He seemed about his height, and he was fairly sure he could mimic a stormtrooper’s walk; this would be a good enough disguise. He slid up behind the trooper, stepping quietly… before he snapped up the spear, bringing it around him and under the trooper’s chin. The man gagged as Din pulled back with all his strength, before  _ jerking  _ to the left hard, snapping the man’s neck.

He carefully slid down to the ground as the body went limp, looking around to see if anyone saw what happened. No one else seemed to be in the area, and he nodded to himself, dragging the corpse back behind the trees. He had it about halfway stripped, before he realized he had no way to carry his armor with him, same as the raid on Morak. Letting out a curse, he finished stripping the stormtrooper down to his underwear, before rolling the body into swamp water, gathering up the pieces, and heading back to the ship as the corpse disappeared from sight.

Working quickly once he was back, he carefully stowed away his armor, ignoring the unease in his gut, forcing himself to breathe. He did this once before for Grogu’s sake, and Luke was equally important; he could do this. He  _ would  _ do this.

Once he was suited up in the (hideously uncomfortable) stormtrooper armor, he spent another few minutes trying to stash his weapons on his person. There was no way he would be able to hide the spear on him, but the Darksaber slid easily in the canister for charges attached to the back of his belt. His own blaster out in the open would cause too many questions, so he flicked the safety on and tucked it into his boot, taking up the stars awful E-11 blaster the trooper had been carrying instead.

He jammed on the helmet last, the inside lighting up with information once it was over his head and making him feel disoriented for a moment. No wonder stormtroopers could not shoot worth bantha poodoo — with that much information right in his eyes, it was a wonder he could see where he was  _ going.  _ Din let out a huff, using the tongue controls to try and click some of the data off, only to eventually give up. Instead, he flicked on the pathing control, following the trail the helmet lit up on the ground for him.

It was a half hour before he broke out of the swamp, and Din welcomed the blissfully cool air of the ocean front he walked out on. Said bliss lasted for all of a second when his eyes followed the path to the base in front of him, though “base” did not feel adequate enough. The place was  _ huge;  _ a sprawling, unholy marriage of ancient stone and modern metal that more resembled a city than a military base. A flurry of activity was at the entrance — stormtroopers checking in from patrol — and Din stopped his gawking to hurry and join them. Last thing he needed was to immediately look suspicious after finding this place.

“TK-One-One-Three-Eight, you are awfully late coming back from patrol,” the officer at the door announced once he handed over the data cylinder he found attached to his belt. “What happened out there?”

Din felt his mouth go dry, realizing too late that he was going to have to  _ interact  _ with these people, and his avoidance of Imps until now meant he had no idea what their procedures were. He did not have Mayfield with him to back him up this time, and he found himself desperately panicking, trying to figure out what the hell an acceptable answer would be.

“Trooper?” the officer asked, snapping Din out of his internal fretting.

“S-sorry, sir,” he forced out. “Still shaken up. O-one of the creatures in the swamp thought I was lunch.”

The officer raised both eyebrows at that. “And you lived to tell the tale. Impressive, and explains a lot.”

“Sir?” he asked, feeling sweat gather on the back of his neck, especially as the officer stuck the code cylinder in some kind of reader, before handing it back.

“The commander has reassigned you to his personal guard,” the officer answered. “You are to report to his quarters immediately.”

Oh. He accidentally got the guy he killed for this armor a promotion. Good for him?

Din managed a, “Thank you, sir,” before heading into the base proper. He was immediately grateful for the pathfinding display in his helmet, as he was certain he would have been lost in the sprawling city he walked into. It felt like the entirety of the Empire was housed here, with elaborate buildings for the officers and individual apartment blocks for soldiers, seemingly organized by squad. Shipyards stood in the distance to his left, where he could see TIE fighters being built up. To his right was some kind of lab, his only means of determining as much the equipment they happened to be moving in as he walked by. Before him was what could only be a former  _ palace,  _ large enough to be a city on its own, and the pathfinding was leading him  _ straight  _ into it.

He felt entirely stiff as he traversed the halls of the massive building, which thankfully made him blend in even better than he was with just the armor. It took several stairs and he did not even know how many hallways before the helmet brought him to a door marked as his destination. He had no idea what he was supposed to  _ do  _ now; did he knock? Did he stand guard outside the door?

As he fretted, the door slid open on its own, leaving him staring into an overly lavish bedroom. A giant sized bed was immediately in front of him, draped in silks of red and black, and small spheres of light wrapped around the canopy of the bed, piercing through the dim light within.

“Don’t be shy, trooper,” a familiar voice reached his ears, smooth as the silks he was staring at, and Din could almost  _ feel  _ it on his skin. “You may enter.”

Din swallowed hard, somehow forcing his feet forward, despite knowing what he was going to be walking in on. Sure enough, there was a familiar full head of blonde hair, the owner sitting with his back to him, busily working away at an overly ornate ebony desk. He stood after a moment, stretching languidly, before turning to face him, and Din immediately felt heat engulf his face. This “Luke” was definitely a clone; the red-rimmed yellow eyes gave him away, but also where there would have been rot and deformities on his skin, there were only dark blemishes, forming an almost deliberately intricate pattern. There was  _ plenty  _ of it to see as well; unlike previous clones (and Luke himself), this one wore a midriff that covered his arms and neck more than it covered his chest, showing off his toned abs for all the galaxy to see. His pants were tight, like he had been sewn into them, leaving absolutely  _ nothing  _ to the imagination, and his arms and neck were adorned with gold jewelry. He swept a cloak over his shoulders, but it was sheer, pooling about him in gentle waves.

Din was grateful he had the E-11 to occupy his hands, because he was fairly certain he would not have been able to keep them to himself otherwise.

“Apologies that I can’t give you time to get  _ properly  _ acclimated, trooper,” the clone murmured, and Din was not sure if it was how preoccupied with how  _ unfairly  _ attractive he looked, but he  _ swore  _ he did not mean the conventional means of getting used to a new position. “I have a meeting I must attend. Come.”

The clone swept past him, barely giving Din the time to get his head on straight before he had to follow after him. He kept stealing furtive looks at the clone as they walked, his nerves shot to hell by the time they slid into a turbolift to take them downstairs. The clone could probably sense his panic, because he caught the occasional smirk on his face, like Din was a hilarious joke to him.

“Careful, trooper,” he purred all of a sudden, making Din jump. “There are sharks in the waters here. If they get the smell of traitorous blood, you won’t be able to make it back out.”

The clone half turned toward him, his eyes almost looking like they were glowing gold as Din froze in place. Oh, he was busted; he was  _ so  _ busted, and he should have known this would happen. Clone or not, this was  _ Luke;  _ if anyone would be able to call him out when he tried to be stealthy like this, it would be him.

Finally, the turbolift opened, depositing them in a long hallway, and he was forced to follow the clone down to one of the many doors that lined the walls. It opened to a modestly sized conference room, with a number of  _ clearly  _ highly ranked individuals conversing softly amongst themselves. The conversations stopped as the clone took a seat at the head of the table, with Din awkwardly taking a guard position behind him. That’s what a stormtrooper assigned to guard duty did, right? It must have been, because no one in the room paid him any mind.

“Gentlemen,” the clone began, “what is our progress?”

“The base is up to eight-five percent operation, commander,” a stiff, older man announced. “The shipyards have already begun production, and the next generation of your line has begun the birthing process. As soon as Hux arrives to start up his stormtrooper training regime, we will be fully operational.”

The clone let out a pleased noise as Din struggled not to react.  _ Hux;  _ he was not here yet, but he would be. When, though?

“And my future brothers, how are they?” the clone asked, like he was deliberately ignoring information that Din wanted, his attention turning to an individual in a white uniform. The man cleared his throat, looking nervous at being addressed.

“Well, commander,” he forced out, “so far, there are no signs of decay. We may be able to move on to the next stage of Project Skyfall in a matter of weeks.”

“Project Skyfall”? Din stared at the back of the clone’s head, trying to see if this was some kind of bad joke. He must have sensed him staring, because he smirked slightly.

“The Supreme Leader will be pleased, as will my master,” the clone announced. “But I must encourage patience; rushing ahead will only hinder them both. We should ensure my brothers are free of the issues our predecessors suffered, so that the First Order may thrive.”

An unsettled feeling blanketed the room, powerful enough that even Din could feel it. He tensed, waiting for something to happen as the clone raised an eyebrow, looking between each of the uniformed,  _ ranked  _ officers in turn.

“Gentlemen, kindly speak your mind,” he purred, that silky smooth voice coming out of his mouth again. Din struggled not to twitch, swallowing hard as a number of the other men shifted in their seats uncomfortably. Finally, a younger man with a dark brush of hair shot up from his seat, pressing a fist against the table.

“With all due respect,  _ commander,”  _ he began, not sounding the least bit respectful, “you speak of Supreme Leader Snoke and your unnamed master like they are real people, but we have neither seen nor heard from them directly. And we are just to accept that they exist from a cloned throw away wearing the face of—”

The man suddenly gagged, a hand going to his neck, clawing uselessly as invisible fingers held him by the throat. Din forced himself not to move, disturbed by the sight of Luke-yet-not-Luke casually reclining in his seat, watching the man’s face turn purple as he remained suspended in the air, eyes bulging as the others refused to look at him.

“Be mindful, gentlemen,” the clone finally spoke, an almost playful smile on his face. “Good looks are the only thing my template and I have in common.”

The man suddenly dropped to the table, and for a moment Din thought he might be dead, but he finally took in a ragged breath, twitching slightly. He had the nerve to actually glare at the clone as he slid off the table and back into his seat, and his expression was met with an amused smirk.

“Again, I remind you all that our success here will ensure the Supreme Leader and my master will be  _ able  _ to communicate with you all,” the clone continued. “Until that day, I must ask for your patience, as my eventual replacement will no doubt do the same. Your devotion to the cause will not go unrewarded.”

He stood, the others following just after and inclining their heads respectfully as the clone left, Din just barely remembering that he was supposed to serve as escort and following behind him. They were silent as they returned to the clone’s quarters, and Din could feel his heart hammering in his chest. He needed to get out of this place, needed to get off this  _ planet,  _ but he could not figure out how to do that without having the entire city base on him in seconds. For now, he had no choice but to follow after the clone, trying to take up a guard position outside his door once they got to it, but the clone slipped an arm around one of his, half pulling him inside.

The door snapped closed behind Din, just as he realized there was another clone in the room.

This clone was laying spread out on the bed, though he pushed himself up once he saw they were there, yellow eyes narrowed at Din, something like  _ jealousy  _ stabbing at him. His hair was shaved to a military cut, and what was supposed to be a perfectly pressed uniform hung loose off his body, the jacket left open to a bare chest littered with scars. The sleeves were ripped off the jacket as well, showing off muscular arms, and Din stared, wondering what the hell was with these clones and their allergy to proper shirts.

“What are you doing here?” the clone on his arm asked with a sigh, leaving Din’s side to lean on the much more aggressive looking clone. Din swallowed hard, unable to look away as the clone wrapped his arms around the more elegant one possessively, still glaring daggers at him.

“I thought you’d need help,” he said finally, tearing his gaze away from Din to pay attention to his fellow duplicate, leaning forward and nuzzling against him. It was then he noticed the mask that covered half the aggressive clone’s face, probably hiding a deformity.

Din felt danger crawling up his spine, and he tried to take a discreet step away from the  _ clearly  _ intimately close clones. The aggressive one’s gaze snapped to him immediately, and in the next moment, Din felt his limbs lock up, an invisible hand forcing him to his knees as the blaster dropped from his hands. The elegant clone let out a  _ tut,  _ pulling himself away from the aggressive clone in favor of slipping down in front of Din, his hands coming up to lift the stormtrooper helmet off his head. He tried to struggle, tried to pull away, but the aggressive clone had him pinned in place, leaving the elegant clone to easily discard the helmet, his yellow eyes focusing entirely on his face. He graced him with a small smile, almost Luke-like in its gentleness, as his hands came up, gently trailing his fingers along his cheeks.

“Mm… I see why our template is so fond of you, Din Djarin,” he purred, pleasure dripping from his voice. The aggressive clone let out a rude noise, coming up behind him, and his hand snapped out, wrapping around Din’s neck, forcing his head back against his bare stomach.

“Hunh… I  _ guess  _ he has nice eyes,” he grumbled, and Din could not help but feel a rush of panic in his gut. He did not want this; as much as he wanted Luke and despite how his  _ body  _ was reacting to this, he certainly never wanted two evil duplicates sandwiching him like this.

“Oh, don’t; you’re scaring him,” the elegant clone reprimanded him, and he reached up again, cupping Din’s face in his hands, gently guiding it back down to look at him. He shuddered at the contact, not used to anyone being so bold as to grab him like the two of them were holding him, especially while his face was bare.

The elegant clone pushed him back against his aggressive partner in the next moment, his lips planted over Din’s. A faint squawk of surprise escaped from him, muffled by the lips pressing against his and the tongue trying to coax his mouth open. The clone pushed back more insistently, pressing him up against the other fully, to the point the back of his head was rubbing against rock hard abs, and Din could not help the faint whimper that escaped from him, desperately wishing he could move. Hands trailed down from his face and along his chest as the tongue took advantage of the noise he let out, pushing past his lips and plunging into his mouth to almost casually explore its depths. The hand at his throat would squeeze occasionally, making stars dance across Din’s vision, though it was nothing compared to when the set of hands exploring his armored body found the codpiece, pressing  _ firmly  _ against it and  _ moving,  _ giving him friction he did not know he  _ desperately  _ needed. Din’s hips jerked toward the hands against his will, a soft moan getting swallowed by the elegant clone’s mouth.

He was about to just accept that this was going to happen, that with everything he had done to find  _ his  _ Luke again it  _ may as well,  _ when the clones let him go. They moved away from him, the aggressive one going to sit at the desk chair and his elegant partner eventually settling on his lap. Din was too busy pitching forward to immediately notice, finding himself free of the invisible hands holding him and left in a state that made it hard for him to stay upright. He managed to snap his hands out, planting them on the floor as he gasped for breath, practically feeling like he would  _ die  _ from the pressure in his crotch. When he finally glared up at the two of them, the elegant clone was giving him a sultry look, absently biting at his lower lip as he watched him struggle.

“Mm… I always wanted to know what it was like to kiss another man,” he purred, hugging his partner a little closer.

“Wh-what do you want with me? Why not just kill me?” Din hissed, really wishing he had his normal armor right now. The elegant clone shrugged slightly, absently crossing his legs as he leaned against his aggressive counterpart, reaching a hand up to rub against his buzzed hair.

“Killing you would be pointless, seeing as we want what you want,” he said. “We want to find our template. You’re going to do that for us.”

“I’m not finding Luke so you can kill him,” Din snapped back. The aggressive clone let out a scoff, wrapping his arms around the other possessively.

“Don’t be dumb,” he snapped. “We don’t want him dead.”

“Quite the opposite, actually,” the other agreed. “It would be a detriment to our master’s plans if he died. We need him alive and healthy.”

“And locked away somewhere he can’t get hurt, like the idiot he is.”

Din grit his teeth, trying to ignore the pain his traitorous body inflicted on itself as he forced himself back upright.

“I don’t even know if he’s here,” he hissed out.

“Oh he’s here,” the elegant clone replied, absently picking at his nails. “I sensed him arrive some time ago, but he’s elusive, and good at surviving on his own. He can entrench himself in the swamp for decades, and we’d never find him.”

“And what makes you think I could?”

The expression on the clone’s face remained neutral, but that did not keep Din from shuddering as he focused his eyes on him. Like before, they seemed to glow a brilliant gold, a hunger behind his gaze that seemed to promise much, but like the Dark Side itself, would give nothing.

“Because, Din,” he purred, his name rolling off his tongue like a lover’s kiss, “once a Jedi gets a taste of love, they never let it go, no matter how hard they try.”

~.oOOo.~

Din could still feel his face burning in embarrassment some hours later, free of the crazy clones, though not without them patting him uncomfortably low on his back as they offered him good luck before sending him off. Getting away from them was too easy, but he was too preoccupied to pay it much mind, certain he would never shake the mental image of the real Luke looking like those clones. His mind had already displaced their blemished skin with Luke’s lightning forest of scars and their unsettling eyes with his sapphires. The frustration hummed in his very blood, though his body had since calmed down, and he was not sure if he was going to yell at Luke when he saw him again or push him up against the nearest tree.

He made his way back to his ship first,  _ happily  _ stripping off the stormtrooper armor and taking advantage of the on board sonic shower — though he wished it was water;  _ cold  _ water — before getting back in his beskar. Once he donned his helmet, he needed a moment, leaning against the bulkhead and allowing the comfort of being  _ properly  _ hidden from the rest of the galaxy to wrap around him. Even after two years, he was not sure if he still had the right to wear it, especially after so many people had seen his face, but the feel of it surrounding him was a comfort he desperately needed after all that.

Comfortable in his skin again, Din left the ship, discarding all of the stormtrooper armor except for the helmet. The electronics inside would be helpful, especially the pathfinding program. He was going to need to find a way to make it work with his helmet, but it could wait for now; he had more pressing issues at the moment. He waited until he was some distance away from the ship, before he pulled out the fob, hoping it would at least give him some kind of clue as to where Luke was. It lit up brilliantly, humming loudly, and he could not help but let out a sigh. With the two clones and who  _ knew  _ how many newly born clones on the planet, it was no wonder the fob was going nuts. He was going to have to do this the old fashioned way—

Except there was no one to interrogate out in the middle of nowhere, and between the megafauna and the stormtroopers stomping all over, there was no way he was going to be able to pick out Luke’s footprints, especially if he was as good of a survivalist as the clones said he was—

Wait.

He was overthinking this.

Din stilled his breathing and  _ listened  _ to the swamp around him. Luke  _ did  _ know how to survive with very little; he had seen him make use of that skill when they were waiting for Fett to show up at the black spired base two years ago. Someone that knew how to survive in the wild —  _ especially  _ someone from Tatooine — would immediately secure a source of safe drinking water and build a shelter nearby. Safe drinking water was  _ moving  _ water, and after a moment of listening, he finally heard it: the faint trickle of water moving in a stream.

He took off immediately, following the sound of the water, his heart thudding in anticipation. It was some time before he finally found a small stream, and Din had to pause to think. Where would Luke set up a shelter? Upstream, right? Closest to the source, where water would be its freshest? That made sense in his mind, and he started off again, heading away from the ocean and the military city and the crazy clones, and allowing the surrounding swamp to engulf him. There were times the stream near disappeared from sight, but he would follow its sound, finding it again easily enough. Eventually the stream started to widen, becoming a slowly moving river, before widening further into a small pond, an equally small waterfall emptying into it, falling from some fifty feet above his head.

He was about to activate his jetpack, when he heard rustling in the brush, and his hand drifted toward his blaster. Something told him not to draw it, whispering a promise that it would be okay in his ear. Din blinked, swearing he saw something move, shifting…

And then he saw a head of mussed, blonde hair.

Din swore he forgot how to breathe, frozen as he watched him, pulling himself out of some kind of leaf covered tent that had blended in with the surrounding swamp, meant as something to hide under rather than a proper shelter. His hair and clothes were an absolute disaster, like he had been out in the middle of nowhere for months, and a beard had started to grow on his face — bushy, just like he suspected it would be. He also looked tired,  _ incredibly  _ tired, like the last two years had been as hard on him as he made it be on everyone else. Yet despite the fact he still wanted to be mad for those two years, Din could not bring himself to be mad in that moment, caught up in the sight of his eyes.

His beautiful, blue eyes.

_ “Luke,”  _ he breathed, and that was enough to break the spell over them both. In the next moment, Luke was running for him, launching himself at him, and Din caught him easily, finally feeling like he could breathe again as he held him close, his feet dangling off the ground. He spun him around before he could stop himself, and the laugh Luke let out was music to his ears.

He finally set him back down on the ground, reluctantly pulling away, only to see a conflicted look on Luke’s face. He opened and closed his mouth several times, like he was trying desperately to explain… something. How he felt, why he did this; it did not matter. Din’s hand came up, cupping the side of his face, and Luke froze, eyes widening slightly. It was a moment before he practically crumbled in his hands, closing his eyes and leaning into his touch.

“Din…” he whispered softly, and for the first time in two years, Din finally felt like everything was going to be okay.

Of course it only lasted for a few seconds.

Luke suddenly stiffened, pulling himself out of Din’s grasp, his eyes going wide.

“Din,” he breathed, “you were followed…!”

Kark; of course he was, because why would those crazy clones actually trust him to do what they wanted? He had even  _ thought  _ that his ability to leave the military base had been too easy, but he had been so preoccupied with his desperation to see the real Luke again that he had thrown his common sense into the swamp with the stormtrooper armor. He turned, reaching for the beskar spear and ready to fight side by side with—

He suddenly found himself flying to the other side of the pond, very much against his will.

Din yowled in surprise, just barely managing to land on his feet, completely and utterly confused. He turned as he heard two lightsabers come to life, not surprised to see red poisoning the late afternoon light. The elegant clone seemed to have a shorter lightsaber than he was used to seeing, holding it in a reverse grip as he settled into a defensive stance. The other, aggressive clone had something that looked like an ancient broadsword, the blade thicker than normal, with a crossguard of plasma blades, the emitters for them arcing out from the shaft of the hilt. His stance was very much meant for attack, a look in his eyes that made it seem like he was hungry for blood. Luke pulled back from the two of them, his lightsaber coming up, the green cutting through the red.

Din let out an annoyed noise, activating his jetpack, and Luke’s eyes immediately snapped to him. His hand flung out, and Din found himself flying back, smacking into a tree. He let out a surprised grunt as he fell to the ground, confused as to what the hell he was doing.

“Luke!” he yelled, just as the aggressive clone lashed out, striking at Luke hard enough to nearly make him drop his lightsaber, forcing him on the defensive as the elegant clone circled around, a predatory gleam in his yellow eyes. Din struggled to get up, shaking himself out before reaching for the Darksaber, but just before he could grab it, he felt something wrap around his arms and torso, and he looked down in time to see a vine moving on its own, before he was yanked back against the tree again.

_ “Dank ferrik, Luke!”  _ he yelled, irritated now, but the vines refused to let him go.

“I need to handle thi—  _ gyah!” _

Luke cut himself off with a cry of pain; the elegant clone chose that moment to strike, his shorter blade snapping out at him. He might have known it was coming, at least enough to jerk back, but it did not completely prevent him from getting hit. The blade grazed along his arm, cutting the sleeve open and leaving an immediately cauterized slice in its wake. Din growled, trying to get himself free. If he just  _ let him help,  _ he would not have been injured in the first place!

The clones were working as one, with the elegant one able to dance in and strike when Luke’s attention was drawn by his aggressive partner, who hammered blow after blow on his lightsaber with an almost wild abandon. They were deliberately tiring Luke out and doing it quickly, and it was not long at all before Din saw him gasping for breath.

He had enough of watching him helplessly, struggling against the vine holding him back. Finally, he got his gauntlet at just the right angle so when he set off his flamethrower, he was not injuring himself in the process. A jet of flame shot out, burning off the vine, and he heard a grunt come from the other side of the pond. Luke seemed a little less tired as he met the aggressive clone blow for blow, like part of his focus had gone into keeping Din pinned, which… knowing him, was probably the case.

The idiot.

He climbed back to his feet, just as he heard a rumble overhead. The sky opened up a moment later, fat droplets of rain splashing through the trees. Despite the new factor of the weather being thrown in, the battle on the other side of the pond continued, with the aggressive clone trying to take advantage of the quickly softening ground. Luke kept his feet planted, however, and shoved the crossguard blade away before reaching out, an invisible blast throwing both clones away from him. The elegant clone managed to twist himself around before he smashed against a tree, planting his feet against it and bouncing off instead. He dropped to the ground in a crouch as his aggressive counterpart skidded along the mud, slamming his saber into the ground in an effort to slow himself down, coming to a stop just at the edge of the pond.

Everything fell silent, two copies and their original sizing each other up. Luke allowed himself a deep breath, driving away the exhaustion the fight had brought on him so far. He shifted his blade to only his right hand, holding his left out toward the ground, palm open. Another lightsaber freed itself from its hiding place in his boot, and Din caught sight of a hilt wielded by a specter from months ago, before Luke ignited the weapon, bringing a blood red blade to life. Both clones froze at the sight of it, but it was the elegant one that recovered first, a smirk coming to his face.

“For  _ shame,  _ Jedi,” he purred. “You shouldn’t be using such a  _ dark  _ weapon.”

Luke glanced sidelong at the clone, his rain soaked hair clinging to his forehead, accenting the ice in his eyes, and Din felt a helpless chill run down his spine. This was about to be like the Dark Troopers all over again, that everything so far had just been a  _ prelude,  _ and despite how much he wanted to help, he knew he would only be in the way.

“Come and take it from me then,” Luke hissed, and the clones immediately took him up on that offer, both striking at him as one. He intercepted their attacks, one on each blade, almost making it look  _ easy,  _ before shoving them both off. Red and green, father and son blades became a whirlwind of motion, hissing through the steadily increasing rain as he met each attack from the clones and struck out in kind. Din could tell this was not his favored fighting style — if only because of the occasional misplaced foot — but he still fought like a caged animal, like he was the force of nature and not the rain that surrounded them. He heard him let out a cry as one of the clones got another hit on him, but he did not  _ stop,  _ lashing back out, and this time the aggressive clone had to back away, nursing a wound split across his chest.

The elegant clone stepped up to make up for his partner as he recovered. His fighting style was drastically different from Luke, using his legs and distractions more than his lightsaber, keeping distance between himself and his template. He danced away from one of Luke’s strikes, his free hand coming behind him, and Din could see  _ lightning  _ starting to spark between his fingers. He tried to yell, to warn Luke, but he seemed to already know; he  _ threw  _ the red blade, forcing the clone to break his concentration to avoid it with a deft flick of his own weapon. He was so focused on the thrown lightsaber, even as it arced almost gracefully around, that he did not see Luke charged for him until it was too late.

Luke’s green blade slammed through the clone’s stomach the same time he caught the one he had thrown. The clone gasped in pain, dropping his weapon in shock as he pitched forward, half slumping against Luke. He reached a shaking hand up, gripping his template’s shoulder as he pulled himself up enough to meet Luke’s gaze.

“That’s… not fair, template,” he gasped out. “If you… were going to k-kill me, you… you shouldn’t have hidden your pretty face.”

The clone used the last of his strength to pull himself closer, planting a kiss on Luke’s cheek, before his life finally faded. His body fell, the lightsaber tearing through his midsection as gravity brought his corpse to the muddy ground.

An almost  _ feral  _ scream echoed through the swamp, and Luke turned his attention to the remaining clone in time to block his aggressive attack. The clone kept lashing out at him, raining blow after blow on Luke, leaving him struggling to defend himself. One particularly  _ savage  _ strike landed on Luke’s red blade, and the clone  _ shoved  _ his weapon forward, catching the emitter with one of the crossguard blades and sheering it clear off.

_ “No!”  _ Luke yelped, the red blade snapping out of existence and forcing him to drop the remains, lest the sudden lack of power caused a cascading failure through the remainder of the hilt. The clone used the distraction to his advantage, grabbing him by his tunic and  _ throwing  _ him with all his strength. Another yelp escaped from him as he hit the ground, skidding along the mud to fall straight into the pond. His clone did not give him the chance to try and surface, instead running for the water and jumping in after him, blade first.

Din almost panicked, able to see light flashing under the surface of the water until it abruptly went out. He shouted for Luke, even as the rain began to slow, finally coming to a stop as a lump suddenly bobbed lifelessly to the water’s surface. Dread rose up in his throat, a scream threatening to rip out of his mouth as the river caught the corpse, dragging it away as the water broke again, long hair getting thrown back with a splash as Luke gasped for air.

He was running into the water without a second thought, grabbing Luke and trying to pull him to the shore. The pond was deeper than it looked, but despite that he still struggled against Din, trying to go the other way, where the damaged lightsaber had been dropped.

“Luke, stop,” he grunted, trying to hold onto him. “Luke, look at me.”

He was refusing to listen to him, and Din let out a frustrated noise, sacrificing his hold on him to rip his helmet off, tossing it toward the shore.

“Luke,  _ look at me!” _

That got Luke to stop struggling against him, his unmodulated voice enough to get him to turn a wide eyed gaze to him. Din let out a breath as he clung to him, his frustration and concern and worry churning in his gut, especially as he saw the damage he had sustained was worse than he had been able to see, little cauterized cuts dotting his face and chest, in addition to the big hits to his arm and shoulder. Bruises were forming all over, and it looked like his eyebrow was starting to swell.

“I was right  _ here,”  _ he said. “You should have let me  _ help  _ you!”

Luke shook his head stubbornly. “You  _ can’t;  _ I need to handle this on my own.”

“Why?!” Din demanded, feeling anger starting to stab through the worry and anxiety gripping his chest. “Because some bantha fodder found your hand and dug up bones and used them to do terrible things, or because you’re the last trained Jedi?!”

Luke froze at that, eyes widening like Din had slapped him. For a moment, it seemed like he was going to try and fight away from him, so Din tightened his grip on him, just in case.

“You think I didn’t notice when we were together?” he demanded. “I saw you change your face everytime you were expected to be a ‘Jedi’; you did it to me when we first met, and to everyone else, so they saw only a ‘Jedi’ and not ‘Luke’. What’s the point of it?! Do you think ‘Luke’ doesn’t matter now that there’s a ‘Jedi’ around?!”

Luke’s mouth worked, struggling to come up with an answer, like he was so used to people  _ knowing  _ why he acted the way he did, that even he did not know why he did it.

“The… the galaxy  _ needs  _ the Jedi back,” he protested. “Until I can train others, I’m the only one people can rely on. I have to  _ be  _ a Jedi!”

“Then why can’t you be  _ Luke  _ too?” Din demanded. “Why can’t you be the person that fought alongside his friends? Whose sister still talks about him like there’s a farmboy there still? Who struggled against the worst person in the galaxy, his own  _ kriffing  _ father, and still loved him enough to carry his legacy around with him!?”

Luke let out a shuddering breath, his gaze flicking over to where the damaged lightsaber had fallen. He shook, looking like his chest was caving in on itself as he pressed his lips together, struggling for words but not able to find any.

“Luke,” he continued, his voice softening and drawing his attention back to him, “just because you’re the last of your kind, doesn’t mean you have to give up who you are, and it doesn’t mean you have to do everything on your own. You have a sister, and she misses  _ you,  _ not ‘the Jedi’. So does Ben, so does Grogu.”

He paused, feeling a thick lump suddenly form in his throat. His mouth worked, fear working its icy fingers up his spine, like he just realized what he was doing. He was just realizing he had ripped his helmet off and threw it away, he was just realizing he was exposing two years worth of hurt and pain, maybe more than just two years, and his nerves did not want to let it out, but he  _ had  _ to.

_ “I  _ missed you.”

Luke stiffened in his hands, blue eyes never straying away from his, like they could see straight through him, into his soul. Maybe they could, maybe that was why Luke let him slide a hand around to the back of his neck, his hold on him loosening to something gentle. This was probably inappropriate, considering what just happened, but Din felt he  _ had  _ to lean forward, pressing his bare forehead against Luke’s. The touch felt like electricity running through his body, hitting the water and shooting out to the ground; and whether by coincidence or the Force, dozens of insects lit up at that moment, taking to the air and bringing a warm glow to the darkening sky.

Din shuddered as he held him there, feeling this was right, feeling he needed to say something, and afraid that he knew exactly what — words he had been taught ages ago, when he was still young; words meant to be  _ important,  _ but he never thought he would find someone important enough to say them to.

_ “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, cyar’ika,”  _ he murmured.  _ “Akay Ka'ra rejorhaa'ir mhi at taabir chaaj'yc be'chaaj.” _

He knew Luke had no idea what he was saying, but he got the impression he still understood, if only vaguely. His hands lifted up from the water, trembling as they cupped Din’s face, pulling himself closer as tears started to fall freely between them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a translation will be in the next chapter.


	10. Chapter 10

The following hours were a blur; once they managed to pull themselves out of the pond, Luke dragged Din to where he had set his shelter up. His droid beeped rapidly as they approached, rocking back and forth on his legs, and Luke rested a hand on his head, assuring him they would be leaving soon. He did not have much in terms of belongings; the only thing they absolutely needed to get was navigation data that he had stolen early in his time on the planet — data that would enable them to use hyperspace to get home.

Once they made it back to the ship, after struggling to get the droid through the mud and the muck, Din had the navigation data loaded and the ship up in the air. They had to leave — it would take no time at all for the base to realize the clones were dead, and the threat of that many stormtroopers coming down on them was enough, without even throwing in whatever other clones they may have active. He did not allow himself to breathe until the streaks of hyperspace filled the viewport, relaxing back in his seat before glancing over at Luke, who was still gripping the navigation console. Silence hung between them for a long moment, like they were afraid the other would disappear if they said anything.

“There’s a sonic shower by the ‘fresher,” Din finally offered, and Luke turned in mild surprise. A small, sheepish smile appeared on his face after a moment as he hunched his shoulders.

“I must smell terrible…” he mumbled, standing to leave. Din turned in his seat, watching him go for a moment, before he added:

“There’s a razor on the shelf inside the shower.”

He stopped dead at that, letting out a strangled noise, but he did not say anything, finally continuing on to the ship’s lower level.

Din stared after him for a long while, listening for the hum of the sonic shower starting, before reaching up and gingerly removing his helmet. He turned it over in his hands so he could stare at the blank visor, an unsettled feeling clenching at his chest. A moment passed before he turned, setting the helmet on the top of the console. It still felt strange, taking his helmet off in front of another person willingly, but the fact he could do it so  _ carelessly  _ when it came to Luke bothered him. It was not because his creed felt meaningless after breaking it so many times — far from it, actually; he still held the creed close to his heart, despite his many infractions over the last two years. He was fairly certain it was love — love, care, and concern — considering it was his love for Grogu that had him remove it the first few times, and his care and concern for Armitage’s wellbeing that had him taking it off to help him. Luke… he  _ loved  _ Luke; he knew that, confessed as much, but part of him had still been a little afraid he only wanted to be around him for  _ other  _ reasons, especially after what the clones nearly dragged him into.

“Din?” Luke’s soft voice came from behind him, and Din hesitated, his hand almost lifting to take his helmet back. He gripped the armrest of his seat instead, taking a deep breath, before turning himself around. Luke was clean shaven again, dressed in a simple clean pair of pants and a tunic, and free of the swamp grime that had been clinging to him. His eyes widened when he saw his bare face, and for a moment it seemed like he would turn away out of respect, but he hesitated, staring at his eyes.

“Is… this okay?” he asked softly instead, and Din nodded, not quite trusting his voice. Just seeing Luke  _ normal —  _ looking like himself, whole, with his blue eyes and lightning scares peeking out from under his tunic — was enough to make a lump appear in his throat.

Hesitantly, still not looking very sure that it was actually okay for him to be seeing his face, Luke slid over to sit back down in the co-pilot’s seat. He was silent for a long moment, looking down at his hands, and Din noticed he had left his glove off, the bare metal of his prosthetic poking out from under a sleeve. A moment passed before Luke turned his gaze up to him again, looking like he was trying to muster up the courage to speak.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said. “There were… so many times over the last two years where you almost caught up to me. Where I almost slowed myself down to  _ let you  _ catch me, but I…”

He trailed off, bowing his head in shame. Din got the feeling he had more to say, so he stayed silent, instead reaching out to slip a hand around Luke’s real one. His gaze turned up to his again, a small, pained smile on his face.

“I… knew I was falling in love with you,” he confessed softly. “The moment I first saw your face, I couldn’t get it out of my head, and with the warnings written in the Jedi texts, with knowing my father’s love for my mother led him to becoming a monster… and then spending time with you… I felt I had to stay away, that if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be the Jedi I’m supposed to be.”

He hesitated, and Din squeezed his hand encouragingly, feeling him squeeze back after a brief pause.

“The selfless love you have for Grogu… I don’t know if I could do that,” he admitted softly. “I… don’t know if I could give you up, if I needed to.”

“Yes you can,” Din said softly, finally finding the voice to speak. “You already showed you could. If you couldn’t, you wouldn’t have tried to stay away.”

Luke held his gaze for a long moment, and Din found himself holding onto him tighter, afraid that if he let him go, he would try to run away again. He did not — did not even try to — and when Din found himself tugging gently on his hand, Luke came toward him easily, straddling his lap like he had the last time they were together. He settled close to him, his hands coming up to rest on his shoulders as Din encircled his arms around him loosely, holding him against him.

“Are you a Jedi?” he asked softly, and he felt Luke tremble slightly at the first words he had said to him, a faint, happy smile coming to his face.

“I am,” he answered softly, before he paused, his real hand slipping over to cup his bare cheek. “Are you a Mandalorian?”

Din raised an eyebrow at that, a strangely warm feeling coming to his chest. He broke his creed numerous times; by rights, he was not a Mandalorian anymore, and even being in the armor was wrong. Yet despite it, despite everything he had done and everything he had given up, he felt like he was more of a Mandalorian than he had ever been.

“I am,” he answered, reaching up to gently encourage his head to tilt down toward him. Their foreheads met, and Luke let out a soft, happy sigh, his eyes falling closed in contentment. They remained like that for a long while, basking in each other’s warmth and the feel of their bare skin touching.

“Din,” Luke began softly, finally opening his eyes, though he did not move away. “What you said to me before… what does it mean?”

Din hesitated a moment, and something like a blush must have come to his face, because Luke chuckled softly.

“One thing at a time then,” he said, his other hand shifting over, metal fingers gently tracing along his thinly trimmed beard. “What’s ‘nee kar’tol gar darasom’?”

Din tried, he tried  _ very  _ hard, not to burst out laughing, only to fail miserably.

“Your Mando’a pronunciation is terrible,” he said, only to laugh again when Luke very nearly pouted at him, pulling away.

“I think it’s a fair attempt, seeing as I  _ never  _ heard it before meeting you,” he protested, and Din could not help but smile, that warm feeling of contentment rising in his chest again.

_ “‘Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum’,”  _ he repeated. “It means, ‘I love you’.”

Luke paused a moment, like his brain was having trouble processing what he heard. His face finally bloomed vibrant pink, and he swallowed in nervousness.

“A-and ‘char’eka’?” he managed to get out.

_ “‘Cyar’ika’,”  _ he corrected, pronouncing it slowly, as if it was the most important word in the phrase. “‘Beloved’.”

Luke trembled in his arms again, his hands shifting back to Din’s shoulders as if to brace himself.

“And ‘aky te kara re— regi—’ ...the rest of it?” he finally settled on asking, looking embarrassed he could not get all of it out. Din rested a hand flat on his back, a finger rubbing absently along his spine, as if to assure him it was fine.

_ “‘Akay Ka'ra rejorhaa'ir mhi at taabir chaaj'yc be'chaaj’,”  _ he repeated, before it was his turn to make a face. This probably was not going to translate well into Basic. “‘Until the Stars tell us to march far away’. It’s… supposed to… I mean—”

He cut himself off as Luke pressed a warm finger gently to his lips. His expression had sobered, a soft, happy smile on his face as he pulled away after a moment, cupping the side of Din’s head again.

“I get it,” he said softly, and Din could feel him tremble again, though he was more preoccupied with the way he was biting his lip, before he continued, “I love you too. Forever.”

The atmosphere in the cockpit suddenly changed at that, and Din became very aware of Luke straddling his lap, pressed very close even as he hovered over him. He watched as he shifted, biting his lip again, and Din found himself distracted by it once more, caught up in how soft they looked. His tongue slipped out after a moment, wetting them, the glow from hyperspace outside almost making them shine.

“Din,” Luke began, his voice barely above a whisper, “can I kiss you?”

He was so preoccupied with watching his lips move, the question almost did not register. His eyes flicked up to meet his, and he answered without words, meeting Luke’s lips halfway. Din had… absolutely no experience when it came to kissing someone, and part of him was afraid it showed, but Luke immediately proved he had no issues with taking control. He draped his arms over his shoulders, pulling himself close as his lips moved with his, like he was silently instructing Din. His chest pressed against his armor, and he felt Luke shudder at the cool metal, and again as Din’s hands moved, trailing up along his back, as if to pull him closer. A faint mewl of a moan escaped from Luke even as he pressed his tongue against his lower lip, like he was asking Din permission for more. He parted his lips for him, the polite tongue slipping into his mouth to coax out his own; it licked along the underside, half wrapping around it and encouraging it out gently, and Din could not help but already feel overwhelmed. Heat felt like it was pooling in his chest before it journeyed down, and this time he found himself moaning as Luke rocked forward, something hard poking into his stomach.

They did not part until air was coming up in short supply, both of them gasping for breath. Luke’s hands had moved back to clinging to his shoulders like his life depended on it, and Din dimly realized he had a hand cupping an ass cheek. He did not move it, and Luke did not seem to mind its presence.

“Din…” Luke murmured, and he could not help but notice his soft lips were red from just one kiss. He hesitated, shifting slightly and letting out a faint whimper, like he had not realized how much just the kiss alone had roused him. A moment passed where he just breathed, pulling himself together enough to form a coherent sentence, before he continued, “Artoo’s shut down to effectively recharge, we’ll be in hyperspace for a few days—”

“And I want you right now,” Din breathed, and Luke nodded rapidly in agreement. His hands shifted immediately, grasping his hips to hold him still as he grinded up against him. Luke whimpered as he near growled, not realizing just how aroused  _ he  _ got just from kissing, and Luke seemed determined to make it worse. He tried desperately to nudge against him, but Din would not let him, taking his time as he continued to grind up against him, hissing softly at the friction and damn near digging his fingers into Luke’s hips in an effort to keep the pace slow.

He waited two years for this; he was going to savor every second.

One hand finally let go, snaking up to twist his fingers in Luke’s hair. He had his head pulled to the side in the next moment so he could bury his face against the crook of his neck, his teeth latching onto the soft flesh. Luke let out a startled cry, like he had not expected that so suddenly, but it quickly dissolved into a whimpered moan, his hips jerking against him, desperately grinding down as Din gnawed and sucked on his neck. He did not pull away until he was certain he left a mark the whole galaxy could see — so everyone could know “their” Jedi belonged to someone.

His hands went to his tunic once he let go of his hair, leaving Luke to cling to his shoulders for support, pulling the shirt open enough for him to  _ finally  _ touch those scars with bare skin. Din’s lips trailed along the branches, his tongue traced along thick trunks, and Luke jerked  _ hard  _ against him in response, coming very close to screaming.

“You’re so loud,” he murmured against his chest, kissing the base of one trunk, just below the mark he left.

“D-Din…” Luke whimpered, shuddering. “I’m… if you keep doing that, I’m g-gonna—”

He knew what he was getting at, and he sent a hand down, coming close to ripping Luke’s belt off, barely paying attention to where it landed in favor of grabbing his pants, pushing them down enough to release his stiff cock. Gloved hands wrapped around it, and Luke had to sacrifice his hold on Din’s shoulders to practically stuff his real hand in his mouth to keep himself from screaming as he started to stroke him in time with his clothed thrusts up against him. Din continued to chase the forest on Luke’s chest with his lips and tongue, one branch leading him to ghosting around a nipple, and that was enough to do Luke in. A muffled scream escaped from around his fist as he came all over Din’s glove, almost getting some on his armor.

Luke whimpered, swaying unsteadily over Din, and he could not help but feel a bit lightheaded himself, like he was the one that had released. Yet at the same time, he felt like he could go like this for hours, to the point where he was starting to suspect something with the Force was going on. He half believed he may have been right when Luke suddenly pitched forward, framing his face with both hands and pulling him into a  _ hungry  _ kiss, like he was starving and Din was a five-course meal. It was Din’s turn to moan, reaching around Luke to pull his gloves off before burying his fingers in his hair.

“Din…” he gasped out once he pulled away, desperately struggling to get air back in his lungs. “Need. I need more. I need you.”

Din let out a groan, a shudder running down his spine, and he quickly found himself standing up, with Luke wrapping his legs around him and humping at him greedily. It was distracting to the point it was hard to walk, his teased and neglected cock twitching with each movement. He barely made it to the weapons rack before he needed to stop, shoving Luke up against the wall and grinding against him, keeping himself pressed firmly against him. An almost delighted keen escaped from Luke, followed by a thump as his head hit the wall.

“You are making it very hard to focus,” he growled, rubbing hard against him. Another pleased noise escaped from Luke, and Din was about to drag him away from the wall when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. His head immediately snapped over to it… only to see one of his blasters floating like the ship’s gravity well stopped functioning. For a moment, he almost thought it had, at least until he felt Luke trying to hump at him again, realizing it had to be another Force thing.

He… was not going to address that. Instead he reached over, closing off the gun rack to keep his weapons from floating through the ship, and dragging Luke away.

It was almost a relief when he made it to the crew bunk, dropping Luke on it. He pulled away, savoring the sight of him already half hard again, and Luke whined softly, his hands reaching for his armor, trying to pull it off. Din slipped away from his grasp, working off the attachments for his armor himself. The pauldrons went first, then the chest piece, and he was already getting impatient, especially with dark blue eyes watching his every move. He hastily removed the shin guards, shaking off half the body suit, before he remembered himself, ducking down and wrenching open a hidden panel. An emergency blaster tried to float out, along with a small jar of lube. He let the jar float out, shoving the blaster back in and closing the panel.

The jar floated up a little before he grabbed it, snapping it open and coating the fingers of one hand before letting it float off, sure Luke would unconsciously make it float back when it was needed. He climbed onto the bunk, his clean hand reaching for Luke’s pants, his hips lifting as Din nearly tore them off, pulling back enough to work them off his feet and toss them aside. His legs were already spread open, his flesh and blood hand reaching for him, and Din threaded his fingers together with his as he pressed a finger against his entrance, teasing at the muscle. Luke hissed, his body trembling, struggling not to jerk his hips forward.

“Din, please,” he whimpered, and he leaned over, kissing him softly as he pushed the finger in. Luke moaned against his lips, his insides clenching around it, and Din could not help but shiver, his mind immediately going to how it would feel to have his cock inside of him. He had to force himself to focus, especially as Luke started to squirm, and he moved, thrusting his finger deeper, drawing another whimpered gasp out of him, his grip on his hand tightening as he pulled out, before pushing in deeper. He worked his finger back and forth, getting him loose enough to slip in a second. Constant little whimpers were escaping from Luke now, his prosthetic clinging to the bunk sheets as he tried very hard not to squirm so much — he was like a worm with how much he was trying not to wriggle, and Din could not help but think of it as yet another adorable aspect of him that no one could copy.

He pushed both fingers in, hard and deep, trying to find the sweet spot that would make Luke see stars, but he was having trouble. His wriggling was working against him, so he pulled back and focused on stretching him, scissoring his fingers back and forth until he could slip a third in him. Luke’s hips jerked as he let out a strangled gasp, before desperately trying to nudge himself against his fingers.

“Stars, Din!” he gasped out, letting out a whine as he pulled back, keeping Luke from what he wanted. “S-stop being so slow!”

Din could not help but laugh faintly, pushing his fingers in deep and  _ finally  _ finding that spot. A scream ripped out of Luke as his fingers jabbed into it, looking like he was going to vibrate himself into a puddle with how hard he was shuddering.

“I thought I heard somewhere that Jedi were supposed to be patient?” he teased, only to feel the jar of lube bop against his head in answer.

Din got the hint, releasing Luke’s hand in favor of grabbing the jar and working the rest of his body suit down one handed. It took him a bit, his own haste making his movement clumsy, and he had to pause to let out a shuddering gasp as his neglected erection was freed. He moved his fingers in Luke, determined to keep him on the edge of losing his mind, as he slicked his cock one handed, hissing softly at the coolness of the lube. His eyes flicked over to Luke, seeing him  _ staring  _ at him with darkened blue sapphires, and he swore he could hear a cacophony of  _ wantneedneedneedpleasepleaseplease  _ running through his head in Luke’s voice, nevermind his lips were not moving.

More Jedi stuff; if it was not contributing to how hot all of this was, he  _ might  _ have been concerned.

He sent the lube floating away again once he was sure he was prepared, finally pulling his fingers out of Luke. The head of his cock was poised to enter in their place, the tip pressing against his entrance even as Luke whined, spreading his legs wider to accommodate Din. He reached for his hand again, twining his fingers around Luke’s, and dipping down slightly to press a kiss to his knuckles.

“Ready?” he asked softly, answered by an enthusiastic nod. Din allowed himself a breath, before pushing forward, hissing at the  _ tight  _ warmth that surrounded him. Luke whimpered, clenching tighter around him, and Din reached out with his free hand, gently running his fingers along his cheek. “Shh… relax.  _ Cyar’ika, udesiir.” _

Luke’s face scrunched up, for a moment looking like he could not process what he was saying, before he finally let out a heavy breath, his expression easing as he forced himself to relax. He peered up at Din after a moment, face flushed and lips parted, gasping for breath, yet he still managed to look sheepish.

“S-sorry,” he mumbled. “It… it’s been  _ awhile.” _

“It’s okay,” Din replied, pulling his hand close to kiss his knuckles again. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

There was a moment where Luke just breathed, closing his eyes and pulling himself together. Din saw things slowly floating back to the ground out of the corner of his eye, though he did not turn to watch, carefully focused on keeping himself together enough so he did not move too much. It was a test of his patience, to the point that it felt like forever before Luke opened his eyes again, looking calm as he nudged his hips toward him encouragingly.

“C-can you speak Mando’a, during this?” he asked softly before Din could start moving. He held himself still at the request, despite his body quivering from the effort, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m out of practice,” he admitted. He could remember the important things, because they were practically beaten into his head, but everything else was not nearly as fresh in his mind, if only because just the covert had spoken it, and even then it was on occasion.

“I don’t care,” Luke replied. “I love the sound of your voice, and I like how you sound when speaking it.”

Din paused a moment, mentally shrugging to himself. It was worth a shot, and it was not like he would be able to understand if he messed up. He nodded, making sure he was really ready to continue, before pushing forward enough so as to comfortably lean close to his ear.

｢…do you know what you do to me, my beloved?｣ he managed to get out, and he was rewarded with a soft moan. ｢Do you know what I’ve done to be by your side again?｣

Luke trembled under him, his name coming out in a whimper, and DIn pressed their joined hands above his head, giving him leverage to drive forward from a new angle. Luke’s hips jerked up in response, drawing him in deeper, and he waited until he was fully seated inside of him, planting soft kisses on his face as he gave him time to adjust.

｢You’re so warm,｣ he murmured in his ear. ｢The stars themselves must be jealous of the light you shed. None of them can even compare to you.｣

“Din…” Luke moaned, looking like he was going to fall apart just from his words, nevermind he could not understand them. He kept himself still, even as he nudged up in an effort to get him to move, instead taking an earlobe in his mouth and sucking on it, teeth nibbling at it gently. A strangled gasp escaped from Luke, dissolving into another whimper as his hips jerked, wordlessly begging him to  _ move.  _ Din could not help but chuckle, letting the lobe go in favor of keeping his lips close to his ear.

｢My beloved, my Luke,｣ he murmured, pulling himself back. ｢Moan for me.｣

His hips snapped forward with a quick jerk, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh drowned out by the low moan Luke let out. Din kept going, starting up a rhythm that was slow but  _ hard,  _ driving himself into him with enough force to make the bunk creak with every thrust. Luke’s back arced, hips jerking up to meet him with every plow into him, a leg half wrapping around him to give him support as they moved.

｢I love to hear you begging for me,｣ he continued as they moved, pausing between words to kiss at his neck, his face, his lips — with his face bare, he could not help but make use of his mouth, wanting to savor Luke’s unique taste. His free hand came up again, his thumb gently running along just under a lust darkened eye. ｢I never want you to stop looking at me. Your eyes are sapphires, and I’m greedy for every glance from them.｣

“Din…!” he whimpered again, his voice sounding strained. His hips jerked up out of sync, begging Din to move faster, and he obliged. He readjusted Luke’s legs, nudging them up against his shoulders, practically folding him in half as he started driving into him faster. Gasps and whimpers tumbled out of his mouth, and a slight change in angle had Luke arching his back again, letting out a scream as he stabbed into that spot once more.

｢Do that again,｣ Din gasped out, his heart hammering in his chest, the sight of Luke coming so completely undone making something twist  _ hard  _ in his gut. ｢Scream for me. Let the galaxy know you’re mine just as I’m yours.｣

He grabbed onto Luke’s stiff cock as he started pistoning into him, thumb rubbing over the cum slicked tip. Luke unknowingly did as he requested, screaming himself hoarse, tightening around his cock as Din drove into him harder. One last, near strangled scream ripped out of his throat, and Din felt cum covering his hand as he orgasmed again. Faint, keening noises escaped from Luke as his insides spasmed and clenched around Din, and he managed scarce few more thrusts before he was spilling himself into him, the hand he was still clutching the only thing keeping him upright as he shuddered and moaned. His hips kept moving for a moment, chasing his own orgasm as Luke slowly started coming down from his, looking completely and utterly boneless. Din was quickly starting to feel the same, just barely managing to let Luke’s legs fall from his shoulders and pull out before he collapsed.

The two of them were a mess, but it was clear Luke cared about it as much as Din did at the moment. He rolled over, burying himself against his chest as Din wrapped an arm around him, holding him close and still not letting go of his real hand, just adjusting his grip to hold on comfortably. They were silent in each other’s arms for a long moment, basking in the warmth that engulfed them.

“We should probably clean up,” Din finally murmured, nuzzling the top of Luke’s head.

“I don’t think I can move,” he replied weakly, and Din could not help but wince, not quite sure why he had not been able to hold himself back. Maybe it was another Force thing, or he had just been that desperate to have Luke after so long.

“Honestly?” he murmured. “I don’t think I can either.”

Luke let out a faint chuckle, slipping his hand out of his and waving it bonelessly. The Force seemed to get the hint, and a towel floated their way. Din grabbed it once it was close, pulling away from Luke long enough to wipe them both clean and kick off the rest of his body suit, before collapsing onto the bunk. He fumbled, managing to grab a sheet and pull it over them both, and his hand found Luke’s again as he finally settled, tangled up in the man that meant the galaxy to him.

~.oOOo.~

Din woke to the sound of frantic beeping, which made him jerk up, worried that something might be wrong with the ship. Everything seemed fine as he looked around in confusion, before his eyes finally settled toward the floor, where Luke’s stubby astromech was. The droid rocked back and forth on his legs, beeping rapidly, and Din got the distinct impression he was being yelled at.

“Aren’t you supposed to be charging?” he grumbled at it. The droid let out a noise that almost sounded like it could be a curse, before a utility arm snapped out, reaching for Luke like it was big enough to grab him and pull him away. Din let out a grunt, reaching over his sleeping form and shooing the mandible away like it was an insect.

“No, I still have him for a few more minutes at least,” he hissed, only to get beep-cursed at again. “Go check the nav data or something. Scram!”

The droid let out another rude sounding blat, before it extended its third leg, rolling away with what very well may have been another curse. Din let out a huff as he flopped back onto the bunk, but his annoyance at the droid faded quickly as his gaze drifted down to the warmth curled up next to him. Luke was still asleep despite all that, his face peacefully relaxed, making him look far younger than thirty. He was pressed up close to him, prosthetic tucked under his head and his other arm curled around Din’s side. Din smiled softly as he watched Luke sleep for a moment, his chest rising and falling gently, before he finally let his hand come up, his touch light as he trailed his fingers along his jawline. He finally stirred at that, bright blue eyes blinking up at him blearily, before he smiled, his hand slipping up to cup his face.

“Hi,” he murmured sleepily, and Din could not help but chuckle softly.

“Hi,” he murmured back, before they came together in a slow, tender kiss. Luke hummed in contentment as he pulled away, hand moving back down to trace lazy patterns on Din’s side.

“I haven’t slept that well in eight years,” he confessed, and Din settled his own arm half over his shoulders, keeping him close.

“I’m surprised I slept that well,” he admitted. Even in the privacy of his ship, he always slept in his armor. It was the first time he went without in who even knew how long, but at the moment, he felt too content to feel like he was exposed. They laid there, basking in each other’s warmth, for a long while, maybe even over an hour, before Din let out a sigh, dropping his head down to press his forehead against Luke’s.

“Your astrodroid is probably rewiring my entire ship out of spite right now, and we both need showers,” he admitted reluctantly, getting a small chuckle out of Luke.

“You go first,” he encouraged. “I don’t think I can move yet.”

Din winced at that, but Luke just laughed again, planting a soft kiss on his lips, before nudging him to get moving. He pulled himself out of the bunk reluctantly, grabbing up his body suit on the way to the sonic shower. A sigh escaped from him as he was cleaned in the small stall, wishing it was a water shower; the thought of hot water easing his muscles was a welcome one. Water showers took up room that was desperately needed in a ship like his, so he would have to settle with it being a fantasy for now.

…though, he needed to ask Luke if he had a residence somewhere. If he had a shower…

He forced the thought away before it could take root in his head, shoving himself back into his body suit once he was clean and heading back. Luke was sitting up by the time he came out, moving carefully as he sipped at a canteen of water. He stood once he saw Din was done, and they paused long enough to press their foreheads together, before Luke continued to the shower, and Din went on to collect discarded pieces of armor.

Everything was back into place, save his gloves, by the time he made it up to the cockpit. The droid was there, and it swivelled its head toward him in what Din assumed was supposed to be a glare, before stubbornly turning away from him. He raised an eyebrow at it, before his gaze turned to the pilot’s seat…

…and the helmet he had left on the console.

He went over to pick it up, holding it with one hand as the other traced the edges of the visor. Broken creed or not, he was a Mandalorian, one with a clan at his side that was more than just two, and he was much more than just that. His hand went to his weapon belt, fingers brushing over the Darksaber hilt. Once they got back to civilization… there was so much that needed to be done; not just with the First Order and telling the Republic, but with Mandalor, and he needed to find the covert’s Armorer, and he needed to help Luke, and… he was not sure where he was supposed to start.

At least soon his clan and the extensions there-in would be together again; maybe they would be able to figure it out together.


	11. Chapter 11

It was Han Solo that answered the senator’s door when Din and Luke returned to Chandrila. Din had only met the man a few times previously; he had been a smuggler in a past life, one that apparently had some Hutt bounties on him, and still had the insatiable need to travel the galaxy. When he was home, though, he was impossible to separate from his son. Even as he answered the door, he had Ben on his hip, arm wrapped securely around him, leaving him with only the one hand free to grab Luke by the front of his tunic and drag him into a hug, completely ignoring Din.

“Dammit, kid, where the hell have you been?!” he exclaimed, hugging Luke as tight as he could, with Ben trying to help hug him too. For a moment, Luke did not seem like he knew what to do, too used to being Jedi-like to remember how to respond to affection like this. He finally hugged his brother-in-law and nephew back tightly, burying his face in Han’s shoulder.

“Sorry I worried you,” he mumbled, and Han glanced at him, before finally acknowledging Din with a raised eyebrow, as if to ask what he did to him.

“Yeah, well, it’s not  _ me  _ you gotta apologize to, kid,” he finally said, nudging Luke off his shoulder before pulling away. “You just better hope Leia’s in a merciful mood when she gets back from work.”

Luke frowned slightly, but before he could ask Han what was going on, he was cut off by the  _ click-click  _ of clawed feet on the floor, and all of them looked down in time to see Grogu latch onto Din’s leg. He chuckled softly, scooping him up, only to have the little one immediately tap at his helmet. Han let out a vaguely annoyed noise, used to Din’s insistence on keeping his helmet on after two years, and he was about to grab Luke and drag him off elsewhere, when Din just casually strolled into the apartment, making sure the door was closed, before removing his helmet. Grogu let out a happy coo, nuzzling against his bare face as he started into the living room, leaving Han to stare after him in numb silence.

“He has pretty eyes, doesn’t he?” he heard Luke ask, followed by Han letting out a sputtering noise as the other man followed after him. Luke was settled next to Din on the couch by the time Han pulled himself together enough to join them, plopping himself down just as Armitage stormed out from the back rooms. Both Din and Luke froze as the young man came to stand before them, his arms folded over his chest stubbornly. Luke leaned back after a minute under that stare, his eyes flicking over to Din in concern. Another minute passed before he let out a sigh, leaning back enough to pull some credits out of a pouch and handing them off to Armitage. He paused to count the amount, letting out a pleased noise, before pocketing the credits.

“Welcome back, dad,” he said, leaning down to bop his forehead against his, before his gaze turned hard as he focused on Luke. He sat there for a moment, not sure what he was supposed to do, before he shrank back against the couch.

“I’m a Jedi; I don’t have money,” he said sheepishly.

Armitage sniffed at that. “I’ll think of something,” he said, before starting for the door. “I’ll be back, dad!”

Luke stared after the young boy in bewilderment as he just walked right out of the apartment like he was not an eleven-year-old. His gaze turned to Din a moment later, as if he were silently asking if that was the same boy he rescued from the First Order, and he just shook his head, reclining back so he could wrap an arm around his shoulders.

Han had gotten over his shock at seeing his face after a few minutes, during which time Din allowed himself to hold both Luke and Grogu close. His older son was letting out happy “buu buu” noises as he patted at his face, and Din could not help but laugh softly at his attention.

“You know, he only makes that noise when you’re around,” Han finally spoke up, shifting Ben over so he was snuggled up on his lap. “You sure he isn’t trying to talk?”

Din stared at him blankly; in the last two years, he had never given much thought to the noises Grogu made. They all sounded like baby noises to him, but he was not exactly an expert on what a kid sounded like when they were first starting to learn how to talk. He must have looked utterly perplexed, because Han let out an amused snort.

“Look, Ben made weird noises when he was learning to talk,” he pointed out. “Took us forever to figure out when he said, ‘Peepee,’ he was talking about Threepio.”

_ “Daaaaaad,”  _ Ben whined, squirming around on his father’s lap. Han wrapped his arms around his son, using his chin to muss his hair as he squealed in delight at the attention.

Din let out an amused noise, turning his attention back to Grogu. The little guy tilted his head up at him curiously, before turning his attention to Luke, wiggling his ears like he was talking to him. Luke raised an eyebrow at him, and Grogu suddenly pouted as the blonde nestled comfortably against Din’s shoulder, like an entire conversation had just taken place that he missed out on.

“Buuu…” Grogu began, his face scrunching up like he could not quite figure out how words were supposed to work. He reached up, patting Din’s bare face. “Buwu! Buwr!”

Din leaned back at the last one, unable to keep the surprise off his face.

“‘Buir’?” he asked, only to be met with excited giggling as Grogu patted at his face faster.

“Buwr! Buwr!” he repeated, not quite getting the word right, but it did not matter; it was still enough to bring tears to Din’s eyes. He held his son close, feeling his tiny arms coming up, wrapping around his neck as best he could. Luke’s hand came up after a moment, resting gently on his arm.

“What’s ‘buir’ mean?” he asked softly.

“Mother or father — it’s the word for a parent,” he answered, his voice sounding hoarse. “I-I don’t understand; I’ve only ever spoken Basic around him.”

He felt, more than saw, the gentle smile on Luke’s face. “He may have picked it up from your unconscious thoughts,” he explained. “You may have been thinking of yourself as his ‘buir’ long before you realized it.”

Din could not reply to that — he still did not understand these Force things, but if it led to Grogu calling him his parent, then he was perfectly fine with whatever came from it. He held his son close for a long while, until he started to fuss. Grogu’s attention turned to Luke, his head tilted like he was asking him a question. The smile Luke answered with was hard to interpret, but he did reach over, fondly stroking an ear as Grogu giggled.

The three of them and their kids settled in comfortably after a moment, with Ben and Grogu eventually vacating their respective laps to play on the floor. Luke leaned against Din as he watched the two of them, and he could see Han raise an eyebrow at them out of the corner of his eye, but he ignored him in favor of continuing to hold Luke close. They enjoyed the simple comfort of the moment for a long time, well over an hour, before the Jedi suddenly sat up straight. He jumped to his feet in the next second, hurrying to the door just as it opened. Leia immediately latched onto him as she entered the apartment, kicking the button to close the door as she buried her head against his chest. The two of them were silent as they held each other, probably talking to each other mentally like they did with Grogu. It was a moment before either of them moved, and Leia pulled away from her brother, letting out a tired sigh.

“You’re lucky the Senate was exhausting today,” she teased lightly, nudging against him, before going over to plant a kiss on her husband’s cheek, and then freezing when she realized Din was sitting there with his helmet off. She recovered quickly, sparing him a small smile and raising an eyebrow at Luke, before scooping her son up to take her turn cuddling him.

“What’s happening in the Senate?” Luke asked, finally returning to his spot on the couch. Leia let out a frustrated noise, her irritation sobering as Ben wrapped his arms around her neck.

“Rumors are running rampant in the Outer Rim, of worlds being invaded by the First Order before disappearing from the communication grid,” she explained. “I have been trying to lobby for an exploratory committee, but it’s been going nowhere.”

“Would first hand account of their actions help?” Din asked. He was partly sure that his ability to understand politics was on par with his ability to comprehend the Force, but the least he could do was  _ try.  _ Leia only let out a faint sigh, shaking her head before burying her face in Ben’s hair, as if her son was enough to ground her, never mind how clear her frustrations were.

“If this was the time of the Rebellion, it would be,” she finally answered, almost sounding defeated. “It was easier to just hop into a cockpit and fly off to fight the bad guys, even if High Command told you no.”

There was a pointed glance aimed at Luke and Han, the former having the grace to look a little embarrassed. An amused smile flashed onto Leia’s face, before she sank into the couch with a sigh, her arms still wrapped around her son.

“Things were almost simple by comparison,” she murmured, giving Ben one more hug, before allowing him to pull away. He stayed on his mother’s lap instead of rejoining Grogu on the floor, playing with one of her braids. Luke was silent as he watched the two of them, but Din’s eyes were on Luke, remembering how he looked like when he was on a different plane of existence while doing Jedi stuff. He had something like that look now, his brow furrowed as if he were arguing with whatever Force thing he was doing, before he blinked, and was back in their current reality.

“Leia, senate sessions are open to public observance, right?” he asked. “I think I’ll go tomorrow, if you’re okay with that.”

Leia stared at her brother for a long moment, concern written all over her face, before she let out a sigh.

“I’m not going to say don’t do anything stupid,” she said, “just promise me you won’t start an intergalactic incident.”

~.oOOo.~

The most Din had ever seen of the senate building was Leia’s office and the halls leading to it. He had never been to the chamber proper, let alone one of the observation pods that hung low to the bottom floor of the massive room. He wished he had thought to ask one of the twins what to expect, but even then he suspected he still would have felt dwarfed by the many, many pods filled with beings representing their respective planets. It extended far above, past where he could properly see, and they had even managed to get one of the  _ good  _ pods, just below where the senatorial pods started. Like so many times in the past, he was grateful for his helmet — it hid the slack jawed amazement on his face that he definitely did not want anyone to see. Luke must have picked up on it; his hand wrapped around his as they sat down, though something else must have been wrong, because he was clinging to him tight. Din did not know what he was supposed to do in a situation where neither of them seemed to know what Luke was worried about, and he eventually settled on squeezing him back tight.

The senate session started right on its scheduled time, and Din  _ desperately  _ tried to follow what was going on, but was lost in it almost immediately. Issues of disasters requiring funds were easy enough to follow, but he could not wrap his head around why some were denied over others. Even harder to process were the different committees and what they were  _ for;  _ historical education and enrichment and a committee entirely dedicated to galactic budget management were easy enough to understand, but the point of a committee solely dedicated to supporting the distribution of supposed “fast” food establishments through the galaxy at a function like this was lost on him.

After a while, he gave up on trying to follow all of it, instead giving Luke’s hand another squeeze to show him he was still supporting him despite being utterly lost. He finally turned to him when he did not get a response, seeing the distant look on his face and nearly sighing, wishing he could have a mythical power to make him zone out right now.

“Now to the issue presented yesterday,” the chancellor’s voice broke through the numb boredom that was settling in his head. “Senator Organa-Solo, you have the floor.”

Din looked up, seeing a pod remove itself from the wall, before his gaze flicked down to the view screen, showing Leia far above them. She was in her customary white, braided hair curled close to the base of her head, and carrying herself with the cold grace that made her far more intimidating than her brother.

“Thank you, Chancellor Mothma,” she began. “My fellow senators, yesterday I presented to you the possibility of a new threat, spread by word of mouth through the Outer Rim. A point of contention was raised from the lack of visual confirmation. This morning, I bring you the proof requested.”

She moved on the screen, pressing a button on her console, and Din’s view of her was replaced by a pre-recorded image. He recognized the place in the video as Tatooine by the twin suns in the sky, but it was hard to say exactly where on planet it was.

At least until a familiar face entered the shot.

Din sat up straighter when he caught sight of Cobb Vanth’s sand worn face. He was looking off camera, shouting something unintelligible. A moment later, the tanned robes of Tuskin Raiders came into view, and he finally felt Luke shift beside him. Din spared him a glance, seeing discomfort born on his face, before turning back to the screen as Cobb started talking right to the camera.

“If anyone can hear this, we got problems out here in Mos Pelgo,” he began, pausing as a laser blast came too close for comfort. He let out a curse, glancing in the direction it came from, before turning back. “We got stormtroopers out here; new shiny armor and organized attack force like I haven’t seen in years. We need—”

The camera suddenly jostled hard, the view spinning around to stare up at a smoke filled sky. Unintelligible shouting filtered over the sound of blaster fire, before the unmistakable white armor of a stormtrooper appeared in the shot. The person glanced down at the camera, giving everyone a clear view of a slightly different from normal helmet, before their blaster came up, firing and cutting the video feed.

Concerned murmurs echoed through the room, though Din could hardly hear them. Cobb was a friend, even though they had a rocky start, and it was taking everything for him to stay planted in his seat. He did feel Luke’s fingers tighten around his, and he turned to him, taking in the worry on his face, before he squeezed back.

“The implications of this footage is clear,” Leia continued as the view screen switched back to her, “the Empire is reorganizing under the banner of the First Order.”

“And what would you have us do, Senator Organa-Solo?” a voice called out, and it took a moment for the camera to switch, showing a woman of about Leia’s age, though opposing in appearance. Her black hair fell loose behind her, and her silvery dress was opulent to the point of obscene, inlaid with enough jewels to buy a small moon.

“The floor does not acknowledge the senator of Arkanis at this time,” the chancellor said firmly, but the woman ignored the clear request to shut up, her pod detaching from the wall to join Leia’s in hovering around the central pillar.

“I will not remain silent, chancellor,” the Arkanis senator objected as her pod moved.  _ “Someone  _ needs to remind the Alderaanian senator that the civil war is over. We  _ all  _ know what she will say next: that we should send troops to  _ Tatooine  _ of all places to combat who — for all we know — are simple raiders with cannibalized stormtrooper armor.”

The view screen showed a clear image of the woman  _ glaring  _ at Leia as she paused her tirade. Leia, for her part, appeared unaffected, but Din could not see her face well from the angle the camera was at. He could imagine the ice in her stare, and he had to be impressed by the other woman’s audacity to continue under that stare.

“Admit it,  _ Princess  _ Leia, you grew too accustomed to being a frontline fighter during the war,” the other woman sneered. “You’ve become a warmonger, like your father before you!”

The entire room erupted in a hail of objections, many of the other senators shouting about how the bejeweled woman was out of line and needed to be censored. She merely stood in her pod, looking tall and proud at the chaos she had sowed, even as the chancellor banged her gavel against the pillar she stood on, the sound echoing through the chamber.

“Order, senators!” she shouted to be heard above the noise. Slowly, the objections ceased, though many remained standing, angry glares directed at the Arkanis senator as the chancellor pointed her gavel at her. “You are out of line, Senator Sindian. Bail Organa was  _ far  _ from being a warmonger; he was the last of those that started an organized rebellion to agree that taking up arms was our only recourse. I will not have you slander his name—”

“Forgive me, Chancellor Mothma,” the woman interrupted, earning herself a glare that went ignored. “Perhaps I should have been more specific. I would never slander the name of a man that died so tragically.”

Din felt Luke’s hand tighten even more against his, and he swore he could actually  _ feel  _ his dread. He reached over with his other hand to squeeze him back before he turned to him, the fear clearly written on his face. They both knew what was about to happen now, that Luke’s bad feeling now had a form in this Senator Sindian, and there was not a damn thing they could do to stop her.

“I am, of course, referring to the senator’s birth father,” she continued, a look of smug confidence on her face as murmurs rumbled through the chamber. Leia remained standing, stone still and emotionless, at least from what it looked like on the cameras. It was not hard to imagine the rage simmering inside of her as the woman turned away, the pod she was in floating around the pillar as she addressed the entire chamber.

“Senators, I have found Princess Leia’s behavior as of late in regards to this supposed ‘First Order’ disturbing. Her willingness to jump into a fight echoes a part of our past best left in the pages of history. It concerned me enough to dive deeper, seeking answers to these disturbing similarities.”

Silence hung thick in the chamber, everyone falling painfully quiet. The cameras got a brief shot of the chancellor as Senator Sindian drifted past her, and it was clear her eyes were focused on Leia, worry and concern written on her face, and Din realized she must have known the truth of the Skywalker family as well. It made sense that she would, but it also meant that her options were either let this woman hang Leia, or go down with her; not exactly the best options.

He was really starting to hate politics.

“With the cooperation of Doctor Pershing in conjunction with several medical experts, we were able to obtain a verified sample of the individual I am referring to,” the senator continued. “A DNA analysis was performed under the public securities act  _ you  _ supported, Senator Organa. Shall I bring Doctor Pershing up for all of us to hear, or will you spare me the trouble, senator?”

Dammit, Pershing; Din realized he was clenching his teeth hard enough to crack them, and forced himself to relax, just as he saw Luke jump to his feet out of the corner of his eye. He grabbed him without a second thought, forcing him back down and earning himself a betrayed look. It was not that he ignored it — he could  _ feel  _ it through his helmet — but he kept his eyes focused on the screen, and the fact the cam droids seemed intent on capturing Leia from every possible angle.

“Let your sister handle it,” he murmured softly, resting his hand over Luke’s when he saw him start to form a protest out of the corner of his eye. “This is how she fights; let her do it.”

Luke let out a shuddered breath, slipping a hand out to place it over Din’s and holding onto him tight as he turned his gaze upward, like he could see his sister without the view screen. On it, Din could see Leia turn her gaze downward, as if she knew where her brother was. A tense moment of silence passed, before she raised her head, focusing on Senator Sindian.

“I was raised knowing very well that I was adopted; my parents made no secret of it, and neither did I. It was one of the many driving forces behind my humanitarian work and eventual fall in with the Rebellion; because I knew I was fortunate, and that I could use that privilege to help others. I gave very little thought or care as to my origins, as I naively believed my own actions mattered more. That was until the night before the Battle of Endor, when I was told the truth.”

Leia paused, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, as if preparing herself for the backlash that was about to come. When she opened her eyes again, she had a resolute expression on her face, like she was prepared to accept whatever judgement was about to come.

“I am a child of Darth Vader.”

Somehow, the utter  _ silence  _ was worse than if the chamber had erupted into terrified gasps. Sindian looked triumphant in getting Leia to confess, gazing around at the other pods, only to have her smile slowly start to fade as she realized what everyone else did at the same time Din realized it. Leia had said  _ a child  _ of Vader, with the clear implication there was more than one. Din turned to Luke at that, only to see his eyes closed and his head bowed, not in the act of using the Force, but in acceptance of what was about to occur. He found himself squeezing his hand again, not surprised he was willing to sink in the same boat as his sister, no matter how much he wished neither of them had to go through with it.

“Lord Vader made no secret that he was a practitioner of the Force,” Leia continued. “He had been a Jedi once, before he became what he was, with a name and a wife he married in secret. It wasn’t until I learned I was pregnant that I dove deeper into what he had been, who his wife had been, if only to be able to better explain to my son where he comes from when the inevitable questions came up. I learned of a life that had been full of love and sacrifice, of pain and what I can only describe as  _ grooming  _ from a man  _ no one  _ should have allowed my father to be near.”

Anger krept into her voice at the last part, and she pulled herself back for a moment, taking a breath before continuing.

“None of that redeems Vader for what he had done. The depths he fell to were deplorable, and I will  _ never  _ forget the horror he wrought on the galaxy. I  _ will never  _ forget the feel of his hand on my shoulder, holding me in place as the world I called home was utterly destroyed.”

Leia fell quiet again for a moment, and Sindian looked around, very well aware her intentions had  _ sharply  _ backfired on her. No one in the chamber looked like they were going to condemn Leia for something she had no power in controlling. It showed that at least not everyone was deplorable in this place, at least not to the point they would pursue a lost cause such as this.

“But senators, even I can forgive,” she said quietly, even though her voice could still be heard clearly through the chamber. “When it came to naming my son, I wanted him to bear a name that meant something; that could show the galaxy had the hope to heal from the past. I wanted to name him Anakin, to also show my forgiveness of my father’s actions, though my brother discouraged it, worried that  _ he  _ was the one more likely to be in this situation, and not wanting our association to be immediately obvious.”

Rapid whispers ran through the chamber, and Din could tell Sindian had  _ not  _ anticipated that revelation. Her face was twisted in a cold fury, especially as one of the cam droids came down to where they were, displaying Luke with a serene Jedi look on his face, set off by the fact that he still had his hands wrapped around one of Din’s. He glanced over at him, catching the barest hints of a smirk, like he knew his clear display of affection would be broadcasted just as loudly as his family relations.

“Being Skywalker children is a heavy burden for both of us,” Leia continued, and while her expression had not changed, Din got the impression she was happily driving the nail into Sindian’s coffin. “We can never forget or deny where we come from, but we must also set a new precedent, so that the memory of what our father did is the only dark stain on our family legacy. We have both agreed to dedicate our lives to this;  _ that  _ is why I have been pushing this assembly to treat the danger the First Order presents seriously. I will  _ not  _ allow even the promise of another Empire rise. I will  _ not  _ allow the risk of a lost soul becoming another Vader.”

SIlence followed the conclusion of Leia’s speech, like everyone was taking the time to process the entirety of it, before a polite smattering of applause sounded through the chamber. It soon turned into a raucous applause, with senators standing that had previously been seated. Senator Sindian retreated back to her pod’s dock, the camera’s last glimpse of her showed her snapping at one of her aides before she stormed out of the room. No one else seemed to notice, and Din turned a curious gaze to Luke, as if to ask if they should go after her. He squeezed his hand, catching his gaze and shaking his head slightly, as if he already knew the senator was not going to be an issue for them to worry about.

The cameras shifted over to Chancellor Mothma, who appeared visibly relieved by the release of tension from the room. She waited for the applause to die down instead of using her gavel, before speaking.

“In light of this interruption, I call a suspension of this meeting,” she began. “I will personally contact those I feel best to form an exploratory committee on the threat the First Order presents. Until then, senators.”

Her gavel came down once in conclusion of the session, and Luke stood immediately, gently tugging Din along with him. He followed after him without a word, keeping a hand on his, especially as he saw people with their own cam droids crowding the hall to try to get to them. Luke acted like they were not even there, holding onto Din’s hand tight as he made his way over to where Leia’s pod would have docked. She met them halfway, and Luke just barely remembered to let go of his hand before he swept his sister up in a hug, holding her tight. Din watched as her hands came to cling to the back of his tunic, her nails very nearly tearing into the fabric, before turning his back to them, giving them what little privacy they could have in the hall and acting as a wall between them and whatever news reporters would try to get to them. He did not move until he felt Luke’s hand slip into his again, meeting his gaze briefly, before gently tugging him along with the two of them.

It was not until they got into a turbolift to go up that Din realized they were not trying to take a back exit out of the building. He tilted his head curiously at them, earning himself a hand squeeze.

“Mon requested to speak with us,” Leia offered in explanation, before turning an amused look to the two of them. “Sorry to drag you along, Din, but I felt it was easier than trying to separate you two.”

Luke turned a vibrate shade of pink as Din let out a faint chuckle. Her lip quirked up in amusement at her brother’s embarrassment, though there was a tired and worn look in her eyes. Clearly she had dealt with this sort of thing before, thought not over something like  _ this.  _ She did not let how exhausting the situation was show on her face until they were safe in the chancellor’s office, sinking down into one of the chairs with a groan. Luke gave her a sympathetic look, one that Chancellor Mothma mirrored. Din merely took up a space in the corner as the three of them started talking, leaning against the wall and half paying attention. This was a family matter, one they had intentionally shared with the chancellor, and as much as he considered Luke his new family and knew of their relations, the situation felt like it should be something more private than it was with him there.

Eventually, the conversation switched back to what happened in the senate chamber before Leia was forced to expose her family ties, and Din’s attention was immediately drawn back.

“I will be honest with you, Leia,” Mothma began, “the First Order striking Tatooine will garner very little sympathy from anyone in the Senate. There is no central government to speak of there, not to mention the fact it is a haven for less desirable members of society.”

“I wouldn’t worry about Tatooine,” Luke replied. “I can go there and deal with the First Order — it’s my homeworld, no one would question it. What concerns me is how vehement that senator was in her effort to say the First Order doesn’t exist. To go so far as to do a  _ DNA test  _ to discredit Leia makes me think she has something to hide.”

“I agree,” the chancellor replied with a nod, “though actively seeking evidence against her would make it appear we were trying to persecute her.”

“Leave that to me,” Leia replied easily. Some of her weariness had eased over the course of their conversation, and she sat up a little straighter, smoothing out her dress. “I’m used to the egos of self styled aristocrats. I can handle her.”

She paused for a moment, before pursing her lips.

“Though… I do agree that with what we have, the senate will be unmotivated in taking action,” she continued. “And just from the findings my brother has reported on Zakuul, we’re not going to get away with a small team.”

“It’s clear the Empire Remnants have adopted our own tactics from the war,” Luke added, nodding in agreement with his sister’s words. “Zakuul is their Yavin-Four; they are going to defend themselves as they gather their remaining strength together and reinforce it. If we delay for too long, we will never be able to dig them out.”

Mothma nodded in agreement with their assessment, though it did little to ease the worried expression on her face. A tense silence followed as she processed the new information, before she pressed her hands together, dropping them on her lap, her gaze flicking to Din for a moment. He tilted his head in response, not sure why she would bother with him.

“I wish we had relations with the Mandalorian tribes,” she finally began, and Din felt a bad feeling crawl up his spine. “Mandalore has always been neutral in galactic politics, interested only in protecting their own system with their own power, even when they were part of the Republic. I’m certain even  _ mentioning  _ a resurgence of the Empire would motivate many of them to fight back, but the tribes have been scattered after the Great Purge and remain so. I’ve heard rumor a new Mand’alor has been found, but nothing beyond that.”

There it was; suddenly the Darksaber on his belt felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, heavy enough to drag him through the ground and into the planet core. He saw Luke stiffen at his mood shift, and he half turned toward him, a curious look on his face. Mothma caught the look, before her attention shifted back to him again.

“Would you happen to know anything, Mandalorian?” she asked politely, and Din shifted, uncomfortable at suddenly being a focus of the discussion. Thankfully, his helmet’s modulator kept the emotion out of his voice.

“I’ve… heard the same rumors,” he replied vaguely. “I have been separated from my covert, so I can’t say if there’s any truth to them.”

It was not an entire lie, and it seemed to satisfy the chancellor. Luke, however, narrowed his eyes at him, like he just  _ knew  _ he was lying. He did not say anything, however, instead turning his attention back to the chancellor.

“We'll have to focus on one thing at a time,” he began. “Leia can take her punches in the political arena, and I will take on the responsibility of investigating Tatooine. I’m sure an answer will present itself as we follow this path.”

Luke glanced back at him again, and Din had a sinking feeling he was going to be in trouble the moment they got a free moment together.

~.oOOo.~

It was clear that moment alone was not going to come anytime soon once they pulled into the apartments Leia lived in. Both twins looked like they were on high alert as soon as they were in the parking lot, and Din found himself keeping a hand close to his blaster, his gaze drifting around, half expecting to be ambushed any second. Instead of being as cautious, Luke practically threw himself out of their speeder before it stopped, barrelling into the building with Leia not that far behind him. Din swore under his breath, hurrying in after them, hoping that whatever it was they were picking up would not  _ shoot them  _ before he could catch up.

Leia already had the door to her apartment thrown open by the time she caught up to them. Instead of running inside, however, she stumbled backward, hands up over her face as if shielding herself from an unseen gale. Luke similarly flinched, but it did not stop him from throwing himself inside. Din paused as he caught up, first checking on Leia to make sure she was alright — she was more shaken than anything, though after her display of willpower in the senate, it was still a surprise to see her holding back — before heading into the apartment himself. Even with how ignorant he was of Force stuff, something felt  _ off,  _ like some kind of bug was crawling around under his armor, legs pricking his skin everywhere it went. His eyes zeroed in on Luke first, who was crouched over Leia’s husband; he was unconscious, and from the matting of his hair, it seemed like his head had been hit rather hard.

A faint cooing noise drew his attention to the center of the living room. Ben was curled up in a tight ball on the floor, hands over his ears and mouth open in a scream he could not hear. Armitage was huddled up against the couch, eyes wide in fear and clearly wanting to do  _ something,  _ but he knew when it came to Force things like this, it was best to stay out of the way. Grogu was right next to Ben, his tiny arms held out toward him and face scrunched up in concentration, like he was trying to hold something back, something that was coming from Ben. He could not  _ see  _ anything, though; just the unsettling feeling and a vague sense that he should not approach. 

“Ben!” Leia shouted as she finally was able to make her way into the apartment. He glanced back at her just as it looked like she was going to run for him, but Luke caught her arm, pulling her away.

“Don’t, Leia,” he said, giving her a look that was full of concern and fear. She looked like she was going to protest, but he shook his head, pulling her down by Han before standing up. He paused, his gaze turning to Din for a moment, and he got the distinct impression he was about to do something stupid and there was no way he was going to be able to talk him out of it.

Luke moved past him, going to crouch down by Ben’s side. For a moment, he only closed his eyes, and Din had no way of telling if he was doing something until he gently rested his hands on Ben’s shoulders. It was like an armorer working their forge, sparks flying with each strike on steel, only this was constant, like something  _ in  _ Ben was actively trying to repel his uncle. Din almost ran forward and pulled him away, but he was rooted to the spot, only able to stare in increasing horror as something looked like it was burrowing into Luke’s skin. He let out a faint noise of pain as it went through his fingers, probably crawling up his arms as well, but whatever he was drawing into himself was helping Ben; the boy had visibly started to relax, and by the time Luke pulled away, had completely slumped to the floor, unconscious. Grogu was not that far behind him, falling back and plopping onto his rear, his ears and eyelids drooping in exhaustion.

“Luke…” Leia began worriedly as Luke lurched back up to his feet. He was unsteady, waving on his feet and looking like he was going to be sick. Din got himself to move then, coming up behind him, ready to catch him if he passed out. Luke turned to him then, and… his face twisted into an unsettlingly familiar smile, one he had seen on the clones’ faces multiple times, and a chill ran down Din’s spine at the sight of it. He came back to himself in the next second, eyes widening like he realized what he just did, before his hands came up, clutching at his hair as his entire body shuddered.

“No… what…  _ who  _ are you!?” he suddenly demanded, and it took Din a moment to realize he was not talking to anyone  _ physically  _ in the room. “What do you want with my nephew?”

There was no answer that Din could hear, but whatever answer Luke got made him scrunch his face up, and he stumbled away from everyone, like he was trying to keep whatever it was he was talking to away from everyone else.

“No, you’re not,” he hissed suddenly, a vehemence in his voice Din had never heard before. “You feel like—”

Luke cut himself off, coming to such an abrupt  _ stop  _ it almost seemed like he had frozen. Horror and grief were slowly dawning on his face, and when he blinked, tears streamed down his face.

“No…” he whispered, so soft Din almost could not hear him. “You can’t be…!”

He trailed off again, backing away and almost falling over the couch, like he had completely lost awareness of his surroundings. Armitage scrambled away, going to wrap his arms protectively around his little older brother, turning a lost look up to Din, like he was supposed to know what was going on. He  _ wished  _ he did, if only so he could help Luke deal with whatever it was he was talking to, especially as he hunched over, wrapping his arms around his stomach like he was going to throw up.

_ “Get out!”  _ he hissed in actual  _ rage.  _ “Get  _ out _ and stay  _ away  _ from my family!”

He lurched, mouth open like he was going to throw up, but instead some kind of force exploded out from Luke’s body, knocking over decorations and very nearly blowing Din off his feet. He managed to keep his footing, watching in horror as Luke gagged, before something blacker than black — like a void come to life and moving under its own power — escaped from his mouth, landing on the floor into a hissing, acid like puddle that quickly burned itself out.

He wavered unsteadily on his feet, his eyes turning sightlessly up toward Din, before he crumpled, with him just barely getting to Luke before he hit the floor. He cradled him carefully in his arms, pushing his bangs out of his eyes as he made sure he was still  _ alive  _ after expelling…  _ whatever that was,  _ before he finally cast a helpless look toward Leia. Her focus shifted away from her brother as he did, looking just as lost as he was. 


End file.
